Illusions
by Vegetableswillhavetheirrevenge
Summary: Six months have passed, and there have been many changes within Camelot's borders. Will Arthur be able to identify the latest threat within good time? Or will Camelot fall to Morgana and Morgause? Sequel to 'Nightmares' and 'Reality.'
1. Chapter 1

**Alright. So I finally managed to get round to writing this. Sorry for taking so long- the kinks took longer to work out than I thought, and my Lecturers suddenly decided to turn in to coursework demons. Still, I'm ready now. Updates should hopefully be every day or two. Now, I know this chapter is short, but the next section just wouldn't work unless it was at the beginning of a chapter. Please let me know what you think of it :)**

**(p.s. Rating may change later on. Not sure yet.)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. Tch.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

Blonde hair cascading in waves over her shoulders, Morgause turned her head, sharp brown eyes opening to lock on to the green of her precious sister. Finally, for the first time in several hours, she spoke out loud.

"The preparations are well under way. All is going according to plan." She paused, allowing herself these moments of satisfaction before all of her concentration was needed. "It will soon be time to progress on to the final stage."

Twin smirks met each other, and the sisters turned as one, making their way back into the bowels of the castle. Six months. Six months it had taken them to get this far. They had struggled hard, but the right words in the right places can make all the difference. And both women were masters of manipulation. In time, even many of those who had originally been content to sit back and wait- wait for the freedom which many were becoming sure Arthur would bring to their kind- had been convinced to aid the sisters in their plan. Because waiting would take too long. The magical community as a whole felt that they had waited long enough. And with their one link to the throne gone, it would be all too easy for the Prince to slip back in to his father's way of thinking.

And all it had taken was that single spark. The execution of that traitor Merlin. The boy now revealed to have actually been the 'Emrys' the greatest of prophesies had foretold centuries before. The sisters had followed the crowd in that respect- swallowed their pride and their hatred. Painted Morgana's would-be-murderer as a martyr for those who followed the ways of magic. As proof that the law would never change- that Uther's opinion would never waver no matter what course of action was taken. And doing this, it seemed, had provided them with the key.

The key which would assure their victory.

Because Emrys had failed. He was dead. And so magic-users throughout Camelot, and even those in other realms, had come together to accomplish what even Emrys could not. To return magic to Albion, no matter the means.

Camelot as it was would fall. And it was all thanks to Merlin.


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow. Only a day (and less than 400 words), and I've already got nine reviews, seven favourites, and eight alerts. Seriously guys- you people are amazing!**

**Alright, just to clear up any confusion people may be feeling on the whole Merlin issue, all information can be found in 'Nightmares' and 'Reality.' The highly undramatic version is that, just two weeks after Arthur found out about Merlin's magic, our favourite young Warlock had to reveal it to pretty much the entire city of Camelot. Uther tried to execute him, but good ol' Merly's magic leaped to his defense. Unable to even harm him any more, Uther instead decided to lock Merlin up in the deepest, darkest dungeon in the castle. Morgana doesn't know this, and most people who weren't present that day think that he's dead. The end. Oh, and the magic also gave Arthur an incredibly cool tattoo on his left arm. The end for real this time.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

The sound of clanging swords echoed noisily throughout the forest, mingling with various deep-throated war cries as the two sides danced their deadly dance around the clearing. Arthur let out a roar of his own, anger overwhelming him as yet another of his men fell mere metres to his left. He immediately charged over in an attempt to take down the guilty party. But he was barely even half-way there when another of the opposing soldiers leaped into his path, swinging a sword directly towards the Prince's chest. Sword met sword, and the two sprang apart in a flurry of motion, barely even pausing to catch their breaths before they dove forwards once again. It was over before he could register how, instinct then forcing him to spin, sword swinging up to crash into that of yet another opponent.

He dispatched this one almost as fast as the previous, and two more fell swiftly after. Because no-one could match him on the battlefield. He knew this with his body, even if right now his brain couldn't resister the fact.

Another opponent. Stronger. A Knight this time, not a soldier. His mind went blank, fitting back into the pace he had trained himself so hard to achieve. But the enemy was good. And he was struggling, weary from the seemingly never-ending battle.

But then, finally, the man fell.

And Arthur took that moment to breath deeply, readying himself to dive back into the fray. Because by this point there weren't many of the enemy left. Only a little longer. His men needed him.

But that was when he saw it, in the corner of his eye. A broadsword, slicing through the air towards his head. His brain screamed at him- told him that he would never get there in time. That his body couldn't move fast enough. But that didn't stop him from trying.

He almost made it. Almost.

But then the sword was past his guard, and in that single second his mind lost all sense of reason, and all he could think was '_I'm going to die!_'

A sharp tingle in his left arm brought him back to reality, and the next thing he knew his attacker was flying through the air, repelled by a shimmering golden shield. It wasn't until the burst of fearful adrenaline dimmed slightly that Arthur remembered. And he could have cursed himself for forgetting- for doubting for even a moment. For giving in to his fear.

Because the Prince didn't only need to depend on his own strength any more. He wouldn't die. _Couldn't_ die. He was protected.

And that thought was all he needed to kick himself back into action. Moments later, he was charging with renewed vigour back in to the battle. '_Only a few more left_.'

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><p>Later that evening, when the moon sat high in the sky, Arthur offered to take first watch, sitting himself down by the fire. It was often his choice to stand guard first, as not only did it allow the Prince a good opportunity to straighten out his thoughts from the day, but it largely guaranteed him an unbroken sleep for the rest of the night. Arthur was not the most friendly of people when he first woke up. And he knew it.<p>

He stayed almost perfectly still for a while, watching the moon's gradual ascent and listening intently to the various sounds the forest made, letting them wash over him, calming him. Once the other surviving members of the patrol were asleep, Arthur pulled up his left sleeve, his fingers gently tracing along the pattern of the tattoo which could be found underneath. As his touch drifted up to the dragon's head, he found himself (not for the first time) having a one-sided conversation in his head.

'_Again, Merlin. You've saved me again._'

It was a bittersweet feeling. Part of Arthur longed for the moments when the tattoo's protective properties would come leaping to his defence. Because every time was a clear reminder of Merlin- a link between the Prince and his best friend. Proof that, no matter what had happened, no matter how far apart they were, the two would always support and protect each other as best they could. But another part of him grew frustrated when he felt that tingle in his arm. Because it had been happening more often lately. It served to show Arthur just how often it was that Merlin had protected him when the two were still together. But it had also made Arthur realize just how many openings he left while on the battlefield- openings his enemy would have no qualms with taking advantage of. It made him feel weak. Unpolished. But, on the bright side, he reasoned (although Merlin would probably disagree), it meant that the Prince had an excuse to spend more time on the training fields. Albeit one which his father would be furious with him for mentioning.

A sigh escaped the young Prince's lips, his thoughts turning to those who had died that day. Sirs Royston and Lucius had both passed, together with nine of the regular soldiers. A cart would have to be sent to collect the bodies once the patrol returned to Camelot. If possible, he would have liked to have made it back by now, but they had been too far away, and the sun too low in the sky, by the time the battle was over.

'_It's getting harder Merlin. More dangerous._'

The skirmishes along the borders had been happening for the past couple of months, growing more severe as time passed. It seemed like every time the King sent out yet another patrol to search for the missing Lady Morgana more men died. And it was made all the worse for Arthur because he couldn't even be certain that they were searching for someone who was still an ally of Camelot. The situation meant that the people were growing tense, as though no-one could ever quite shake the unusual feeling that something was wrong- that something was changing, and they couldn't be sure if it was for better or for worse. Tempers had been fraying amongst nobles and commoners alike- the council had been making what Arthur deemed to be irrational decisions, and even the Knights, as unified as they usually were, had been growing increasingly short with each other of late.

'_Sometimes it seems like I'm the only sane one any more._'

Other people may beg to differ, but Arthur knew it to be so. While he behaved in roughly the same manner he always had- aside from becoming, he admitted, somewhat more withdrawn since Merlin's imprisonment- most others were becoming more and more unreasonable and irritated as time passed. Even Leon and Mordon- two of his most calm and collected Knights- had been seen in more than one public brawl in the inns. There were fights in the streets every day- often more than one. Arthur had never known Gaius to have to make so many salves for cuts and bruises, and even remedies for some more serious injuries. And this while the old man himself was somewhat tetchy. It was getting downright ridiculous. And the King just didn't seem to care as much as he should. Arthur had never found it easier to spot his father's flaws.

The next couple of hours were filled with morose thoughts, the only bright parts lying in imagining how Merlin would have reacted had he heard what the Prince was thinking. Finally, the moon had moved far enough across the sky for Arthur to wake the next watchman- Sir Kennard- and settle down to sleep himself.

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><p>That night, Arthur had a dream.<p>

_He was standing on the castle battlements at Camelot, looking down on a silent city. The air felt twisted somehow, as though even nature itself had been forced in to some unspeakably dark purpose. He couldn't help but shiver in nervous anticipation. Down below, the people walked as though in a trance- their faces blank, no sound coming from the mouths of even the smallest infants. He couldn't even hear the expected drumming of footsteps on the cobblestones. They marched in to the square, swarms of people packed in to neat rows, all focusing on a single point. The castle's main balcony._

_And then a figure emerged, dressed in royal purple silk, her dress trailing behind her, dark hair styled in to a beautifully elegant design. And a crown on her head. _

_Morgana._

_And behind Morgana stood another woman- one whom even in a dream Arthur was somehow afraid of. Afraid and angry, in equal measure._

_The two women walked to the front of the balcony, and as soon as they stopped walking the crowd, as though having received some sort of invisible signal, yelled as one._

"_All hail Queen Morgana!"_

_Dream Arthur froze in shock. Queen Morgana? What was going on? And why were the people- even the Knights- acting as though they were under some sort of enchantment? And where was his father?_

_His thoughts were interrupted as the scene below froze, silence returning once more. Silence. Until the unmistakable sound of powerful wing beats came from out of nowhere, gradually building up until Arthur could stand it no more. The beats were followed by the appearance of a glittering gold and blue Dragon, words of power swirling and dancing across it's shimmering scales._

_The Dragon spoke. And it was Merlin's voice. Merlin's voice, and yet not his. Because this voice sounded ancient- like a power born at the beginning of time, there before the start of all._

"_It is coming, Arthur Pendragon. The time is near." Blazing gold eyes fixed on the Prince, filling him with insurmountable awe. "You must prepare. A crucial turning point is coming your way. You must find it in you to spot the true danger and find a solution, or all is lost. Your destiny will crumble."_

_Arthur gulped, afraid to speak but knowing that he had to nonetheless. "How will I know?"_

"_You have already _begun_ to know, Arthur Pendragon. Now, you must wait for the right moment. And remember, you alone can do nothing. You are but one side of the coin."_

_And with that, the dragon was gone._

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><p>Blue eyes flew open, the Prince's breath heaving. It was several moments before he realized that the other patrol members were stirring around him, woken by the sunlight streaming in to the small clearing. He ignored the vaguely questioning look in Kennard's silver eyes as the Knight glanced his way, instead packing up his bedroll as a way to mask the single question filling his mind.<p>

_What was that?_

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><p><strong>Phew. A lot of back story going on there. There's still a bit of catching up to do, but the juicy stuff should start in a few chapters time. <strong>

**Anyway, what did you think? How was the fight scene? I was kind of worried about it, especially as I've never even been in a fist fight before, let alone a full-on battle. Did I do the general atmosphere justice? Please let me know (and not just about the fight- feedback on the rest of the chapter would be greatly appreciated).**


	3. Chapter 3

**Well, first off, I reckon I should probably say thanks to you guys for the amazing response to the last chapter. I'm glad no-one pointed out the notorious lack of dialogue. He he. And you have no idea just how relieved I was that everyone seemed to like the fight scene, so here goes: ARIGATOU! (See, I'm so excited you've got me going Japanese)**

**And here's for the next chapter XD**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

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><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

It was midday by the time the party arrived back at Camelot. They rode quietly through the streets, each trying to ignore the unsettling stares the people sent their way. To Arthur the looks felt almost accusing- as though the people were blaming the entirety of their unrest on _him_ because no-one had managed to find Morgana yet. Even Amyas- who had taken up work at the Rising Sun after four long months of rehabilitation, and was usually fairly good natured (if, understandably, quiet)- was practically glaring at the Prince. Another pang of emotion sprung up in Arthur's heart- the mere sight of the older man bringing back everything that had happened six months ago. It was through the information which this man had provided Merlin with, after Amyas' village had been destroyed, that the young Warlock had been able to alert the city to the entirety of the threat the army of sorcerers had posed. It was this man's description of those talismans which had given Merlin and Gaius the means to discover the only way to defeat the enemy. The things this man had told them were what had led to Merlin unveiling himself on the battlefield. To the attempted execution. To Merlin's imprisonment. It was, at times, almost enough for Arthur to start wishing that Amyas had died back then. Or that he had never remembered anything of the attack. But no. If that information hadn't been given- if Merlin had never sacrificed himself- then half the city would have been dead by now. Merlin wouldn't have done it any differently, so who was Arthur to complain?

They entered the castle courtyard, where everyone automatically handed over the horses to the various stablehands who came running up to greet them.

Arthur turned to face his men, taking in their tired, haunted expressions and the slouch of most of the men's shoulders. Not one of them looked like they could handle standing in front of a temperamental King right now.

"Alright everyone, you can go home. You deserve a break. Just make sure to return to your usual duties tomorrow. That is all."

The men gave a badly hidden collective sigh of relief and walked off, leaving Arthur to go and face his father alone. He strode purposefully up the steps, secretly inspecting every person he passed in the corridors. For some reason he just couldn't seem to shake off the dream from the previous night. The Dragon had said that there was danger coming to Camelot. Coupled with the feeling Arthur had had each time he walked through the city recently- that he was being watched (and not just in an 'oh look, it's the Crown Prince' sort of way)- he couldn't help but wonder if this meant that there was an enemy already inside the city. It wasn't impossible to imagine. After all, Merlin had hidden his magic for over two years, and he was quite possibly the worst liar in the country. All it took to deceive people, Arthur had found, was simply a knack for avoiding the right questions.

But if the enemy was in Camelot, then who was it? And how could he find them? Would he able to, and before it was too late?

He squared his shoulders as he neared the council chambers, quickly forcing back the small stab of anger he felt when he first saw his father. Needless to say, the two of them had not exactly seen eye-to-eye over the course of the past few months. There were no others in the room- Uther didn't seem to trust anybody these days. Not even his son.

"Father."

Uther looked up, a small frown forming on his face.

"Arthur. Unsuccessful again I see."

Arthur swallowed the retort which had tried to force itself from his mouth, instead bowing his head slightly. "Regretfully, yes. And that is not all- we had some trouble near the border of Alined's kingdom."

"Another skirmish?"

He nodded. "Eleven dead- two of them Knights. We'll need to arrange for the bodies to be brought back immediately."

Uther called to one of the men standing guard outside the room, giving him instructions to see to the necessary preparations. After the man had scurried from the room, the King turned back to face his son. "Well, we should just be glad that you survived."

Arthur stood a little taller, knowing what his father's reaction would be to his next words, but still not in the least bit inclined to hold back. "I wouldn't have... if it weren't for Merlin."

"Arthur." The King's tone was deathly calm, taking on that dangerous edge it achieved whenever this particular subject was breached in his presence- something only Arthur still dared to do.

"I mean it father- the sword was inches from me. If it wasn't for Merlin's protection, I would have died."

Uther's gaze flickered momentarily to his son's left arm, his lip curling with distaste. The look was barely noticeable- Arthur only saw it because he was searching for that self-same reaction- but it happened. But then Uther just turned back to the papers sprawled across the table. "Go to your chambers."

"Father-"

"I said go to your chambers!"

There were a few moments of silence. Both men simply stood where they were, glaring at each other. Finally, Arthur relented, bowing his head almost mockingly. "As you wish, _sire_." He practically spat the last word, then walked swiftly from the room before his father had time to reprimand him for it.

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><p>The doors to Arthur's chambers slammed shut behind him.<p>

No-one had dared to address the Prince as he strode angrily through the corridors. The cowards. All it had taken was for a few men to be threatened with execution, and the entire city had completely stopped talking about Merlin! He would have been able to understand, even to sympathize, with their fear had there still been whisperings, but with the various spies the people knew that Uther had sent out among them, not one person would ever even mention the young Warlock any more but Gwen and Gaius- and even they only did so in Arthur's presence, and after checking numerous times that nobody would overhear. It was almost as though Merlin had been completely forgotten! He had willingly risked his life to save every one of them, and none of them would even stand up and mention his name! Most of them didn't even know that he was still _alive_!

He couldn't help but wonder- did any of them even care?

Unable to control his anger, Arthur lashed out, kicking the closest bedpost as hard as he could. He stared round at his chambers- his prison. This was where he spent most of his time now. It was where Uther sent him almost every time they spoke. After all, it would look bad if the Prince were to continue spending as much time in the dungeons as he had those first few weeks. Because of course this way was _so_ much better. Never mind that there were guards constantly posted outside. Never mind that he wasn't even allowed to exit the room most of the time unless it was for either training or patrol. Never mind-

He stopped there. This, he reminded himself, was nothing. Merlin had been down there, locked up in a tiny little cell, unable to speak to anyone for the past six months now. At least Arthur got to move around. To go outside sometimes. He should be more than capable of putting up with simply having to stay locked up in his chambers.

But Arthur had never been one to stay still, and barely a few moments after thinking these thoughts, he started pacing the rooms furiously, glaring at everything in sight as though _daring_ the objects to start a fight with him.

He still hadn't calmed down when there came a knock on the door half an hour later.

"Enter!" He growled out.

An unruly mop of brown hair poked timidly around the side out the door, followed by the rest of Bennett, his latest manservant. The twelfth since Merlin. Uther had told him that if he fired another one, he'd end up confined to his quarters non-stop for a month, eating nothing but bread.

"I... I brought y- your l- lunch, sire." Stammered Bennett, obviously terrified by the Prince's expression. But Arthur found he couldn't help it- all of these men his father hired were just so timid, so nervous, so... so _not Merlin_. He sighed, forcing his features into something even slightly more polite.

"Thank you Bennett. You can set it down on the table."

The young man did as asked, and Arthur took a seat, picking absentmindedly at the chicken. Bennett stood two steps behind, ever so slightly to the left, completely unmoving. The perfect servant. And Arthur hated it.

Determined to get the man to at least behave like a human being in his presence, and not like a well-trained dog, Arthur decided to try actually talking to the man- maybe get him to loosen up slightly.

"You don't have to be so stiff you know. You can relax. I'm not about to rip your head off." Alright- so maybe that tone sounded slightly more rude than he had intended.

The man flinched, giggling nervously. "No, no. Of course not sire." But still he didn't move.

Arthur sighed. Obviously behaving like the Prince was just another person was too much for the guy. But that was only to be expected. He wasn't Merlin. Bennett actually _cared_ about status.

The rest of the meal passed in silence, Bennett swooping forward as soon as Arthur had finished to collect the empty plate. "W- will that be all, sire?"

"Yes, until supper at least. You may leave."

Bennett was out of the room within seconds, leaving the Prince alone with his thoughts once more. Calmer now than he had been before, Arthur made his way over the the desk at the other side of the room. He tugged open one of the drawers, revealing a small wooden figurine of a Dragon. It was practically the only thing he had managed to salvage from Merlin's room before Uther had ordered the place ransacked. That, and the spell book he had hidden away in the dustiest section of the Library he had been able to find.

Sitting down, he placed the Dragon in front of him on the desk, leaning forward so that it was mere inches from his nose. Merlin had told him that Balinor had made the figurine before he died. A gift for the son he never knew he had. There was no way Arthur would have let it be destroyed.

"If you could talk," he started, "would you be as cryptic as the Dragon in my dream? I mean, what was the point of telling me that there's going to be danger, and then not saying what it is?" He paused for a moment, before he realized that he was (rather stupidly) half expecting a reply. For the first time that day, he felt a small smile begin to form. A snort of laughter escaped his nose.

"How ridiculous must I look? A grown man- a Prince- sitting here, trying to ask for advice from a wooden Dragon!"

Then he paused thoughtfully. The strange thing was, the idea that the tiny figurine would suddenly start moving around, and even talking, actually could be deemed as somewhat plausible. Stranger things had happened in the young Prince's life. It was a rather unsettling epiphany.

He was just about to launch into what would probably turn out to be a rather lengthy internal monologue debating whether or not he was actually mad, and this whole thing actually a dream, when there came a knock on the door.

The Dragon was back in the drawer, and Arthur half-way across the room, in seconds.

"Enter."

It was a more familiar head which poked it's way around the door this time, under the ploy of returning the Prince's laundry. He felt a portion of his now almost permanent frustration melt away at the sight, a genuine smile forming on his lips.

"Guinevere."

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><p><strong>Sooo... What did you think?... <strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**He he. Thanks so much for the awesome reviews everyone- every single one makes me smile (like this- XD). I love hearing what people think works, or if there are any mistakes you feel should be pointed out. Basically, I just love hearing from you guys XD**

**Alright, so this chapter will be the first time I've posted anything on here from a _nice_ OC's POV. Let me know if you think it works, and if you like Kennard as a character (please).**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

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><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

No-one ever thought of Kennard as observant. It was something to do with the way his vague, silvery eyes- such a contrast from the sharp, piercing amber of his elder brother, Mordon- would seemingly be staring off into the distance at most points during the day.

In actual fact, Kennard noticed more than most people would. He preferred to sink in to the background, taking in all the details, rather than be one of those who stood at the forefront. There were only two people currently in Camelot who seemed to have realized that Kennard wasn't the dimwit practically all of the other Knights thought him. Mordon, and Prince Arthur.

The Prince had intrigued Kennard from the time he first joined the Knights, about two months after Camelot had been besieged by the Great Dragon. Arthur was a brilliant ruler, true, but that wasn't what made the man stand out. There was a sort of frustrated sadness to the Prince- something Kennard had never before seen in a man only three years his elder. He had asked several of the other Knights, but all any of them would do was avert their eyes and mumble some sort of apology, before rushing off somewhere else. Finally, after a month of evasions, Kennard had secretly gone to ask his brother.

He would never have dreamed up what he had been told. Not in a million years.

Of course, he had known that the city had been attacked. But knowledge of how the sorcerer army had been defeated had been declared against the law to speak of the day after the incident. There had been whispers of sorcery being used in the counter attack (after all, what else could get the King so riled up), but no direct confirmation. And all rumours had fast died down.

But for the entire thing to have been ended by one man? For the Prince to have knowingly been harbouring a sorcerer as his best friend? For that sorcerer to now be imprisoned somewhere deep in the bowels of the castle?

It was unbelievable.

But it was true. It had to be. Because what else, during patrols, would make the Prince lie there at night, mumbling apologies in his sleep for broken promises- for failing this man named Merlin? Why else would he be constantly switching manservants? Why else would there be such a huge void between him and his father?

The amount of things which most people assumed Kennard knew. The amount he actually knew. The two were so vastly different it was scary.

For example, he was the only one who seemed to find it strange that, though the Prince hadn't changed in the four months Kennard had been in Camelot, both Arthur and Uther seemed to slowly be losing the loyalty of Camelot's Knights. Just those four short months ago the Knights' devotion to Prince Arthur had been intense, and seemingly unshakable. They were immensely proud of him.

So why were there now irritated glares?

Why were there stirrings of discontent?

Why were there angry, restless whispers?

There were so many questions. And as far as Kennard was concerned, the only conclusion, if Arthur hadn't changed, was that something had caused the Knights themselves to change.

But what?

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><p>"Guinevere."<p>

The door closed behind the young maid, and within seconds the basket of clothes was on the floor, and Arthur had pulled her in to his embrace. They stayed like that for a short while, with him just breathing in her familiar scent, the feeling of _her_ doing what nothing else could. Calming him. Even if only for a short while, he could finally let go.

"I missed you."

Something in his voice must have alerted Gwen to his previous distress, because she pulled apart from him. She took a few moments to study his face before a small sigh escaped her lips, and she turned away and picked up the discarded clothes.

"You shouldn't have done that Arthur. You knew that it would only anger him."

Of course she knew what had happened. She could always tell what was troubling him.

"Guinevere, please. You know that I needed to. Merlin-" He broke off, taking in the sudden tenseness of Gwen's shoulders, and the quick, worried, look she had shot at the door. He relented, as she must have known he would. And once again he was unable to even use Merlin's name.

Sinking down in to a chair, he watched as she began separating the piles of laundry. "He saved my life Gwen. Again."

Her hands paused in their work, only to continue a second later, accompanied by another soft sigh. "I thought it might have been something like that."

"Then you understand why I needed to do it."

"I understand Arthur. But you _need_ to stop. You need to let this go- to be patient. The more you push your father, the more he'll push back."

"I know." He began massaging the bridge of his nose. "I know that, but-"

Silence. She didn't even look at him, simply carried one pile of laundry- the shirts- over to one cupboard and begun hanging them up.

"But Guinevere, I need to feel like I'm still fighting. I can't give up. After me, there's no-one left. If I stop, then Merlin-" He ignored her flinch. "Then Merlin will be completely forgotten."

That got to her. She span to face him, his heart almost stopping for a second at the sight of the tears swimming in her beautiful eyes. He had caused that. Him and his big mouth.

"Do you honestly think that, Arthur? That we've forgotten him? That we ever would?"

"No, but-"

"Then why-"

He moved over to her, gently wiping the tears from her eyes. This time, when he spoke, his voice was soft, pleading. Begging her to understand. "I didn't mean you. Or even Gaius. I feel like _Camelot_ has forgotten him Gwen. Like, to them, he never even existed. And maybe..."

His voice died. And he let it. What was he supposed to say? That somewhere in him, he just couldn't let go of the childish hope that someone would finally listen to him, and act where he couldn't? That someone would set Merlin free? He knew it was foolish. Everyone was too scared of Uther. And most people were too caught up in their own problems to worry about the actions of a petulant prince.

But he just couldn't let go of that stupid hope. Because to do so would feel like giving in. Like saying goodbye. And Arthur just wasn't ready to say goodbye to the first true friend he had ever had. Somewhere in him, he knew he would _never_ be ready for that.

And, by the gentle, understanding look in Guinevere's eyes, she knew it too.

He stepped back, watching as she finished putting away the shirts and moved over to fetch the breeches.

"Leave them Gwen. I'll sort them out later."

She smiled, and he could almost see the laugh at the corner of her lips. She moved back towards him. Stroked her hand down the side of his face, pure understanding radiating from her every feature. Her voice was soft, and even slightly teasing. "Part of me still can't believe it whenever I hear you say something like that."

"And part of you wishes I'd say it all the time?"

The laugh was out loud this time. Pure, and clear, and enough to make his heart skip a beat. "It's certainly not something you'll find me complaining about."

"Indeed."

And then they were in each-others' arms again. Knowing that they may not be able to talk again for days, or even weeks, to come. But then, a few seconds later, they had to pull apart.

He coughed, trying to cover up the embarrassment he felt. Why was she always able to make him feel so... vulnerable?

"You better go. Or else the guards will be in here, wondering what's keeping you." It had happened before. Luckily, the two of them had been at opposite sides of the room at the time.

He waited until she was gone before moving over to the bed to collect the pile of breeches. It was something he had taken to doing during his long periods of imprisonment. Together with cleaning his own armour, making his own bed, and even occasionally picking up after himself. It probably wouldn't continue forever though. Just something to pass the time. It wasn't like he actually sort of _enjoyed_ it or anything...

...Well, maybe just a little bit.

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><p>Gwen nodded to the guards in passing, hoping beyond all hope that they would be unable to notice just how quickly her heart was beating. Her brief moments with Arthur were even more far apart now than they had been before, meaning that they seemed to have a greater effect on her now. Because every moment they were apart just made her long for him more.<p>

It didn't help her that every time she saw him now Arthur seemed to be just that little bit thinner than the last time. It was gradual. It probably wasn't even noticeable to other people. She herself only knew because she had engraved every aspect of his figure in to her memory. It worried her. Just as the slight, persistent, shadows under his eyes worried her. The same shadows she knew to be on Gaius' face.

Gaius.

Now there was another worry in her life. Even though the old physician had been cautious. The King had let him off before- there had been no proof that Gaius had known about his ward's talents after all (and Gwen doubted Uther really wanted to find any). But Gaius was smart. He knew that he had to tread carefully, and so had almost completely refrained from mentioning Merlin. He didn't even go in the young Warlock's old room any more.

But he did miss him.

He hid it well, but Gwen had noticed the ever-present sadness in his eyes. And the way his hands would linger over anything Merlin had often used- some tattered books, the worn-down herb bag, and even cutlery. He was, in a way, comparable to a father who had lost his dearest son.

A son whom Gwen couldn't help but fear may die any day now.

She had been largely working in the laundry room for almost seven months now, but had also been helping out in the Kitchens at the same time. Mary was a good cook, and good company. And the atmosphere in the kitchens was just what Gwen had needed for the past half a year- first with Morgana's disappearance, and then with this whole issue about Merlin. It was busy in there. Hectic.

So hectic that, at first, she hadn't noticed when, just once a day, a Knight would come and ask for a small plate of food- barely enough for a five year old child. She had once tried to add some to the plate, but had been fast reprimanded. The King himself had ordered that the portion size be no larger than that. This puzzled Gwen at first. Surely Uther would allow his Knights to eat as much as needed?

But then she'd asked Mary how long ago the portions had begun to be ordered. And had, armed with determination through her new knowledge, taken it upon herself to follow the Knight one day. Her suspicions had been confirmed when the plate had been carried down the path to the dungeons, even though the prisoners were sent food later in the day. Gwen hadn't been able to follow him far once they neared the cells, but there was no doubt in her mind that the food was for Merlin.

She hadn't told Arthur. Or Gaius. Not anyone.

Because it meant that, even if he was alive, her friend would be practically nothing more than skin and bones.

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><p><strong>Eep! *Hides in an attempt to avoid any angry mobs*<strong>

**Yeah, so... I finally gave you some info on Merlin... Please don't kill me!**

**(ps. For readers of 'Homeward Bound,' peskychesk and I are currently working on it, but we're in different counties right now so it's slightly more difficult. We're hoping to talk on skype at some point tomorrow, once I can find somewhere quiet [far too many people in my house])**


	5. Chapter 5

**Yay! Everyone seems to like Kennard so far- I'm glad :D I love that guy.**

**Be happy that I had a few chapters written already. One of my sisters turned eight today, so it's been a mad rush of screaming children for most of the day. Yikes.**

**Well, I'll try not to keep you any longer, so here's the next chapter XD**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

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><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

"Alright everyone! I want you to pair up and run through some basic exercises. Warm up, and then I want to see some good sparring going on!"

The Knights split up as Leon ordered, spreading out across the training field. Mordon stood next to him, a scowl marring his normally calm features. Leon grimaced at him.

"Not much this morning, are they?"

"Indeed," replied Mordon. "Bet they'd kick themselves into gear were the Prince out here though. You reckon they know he's probably watching anyway?"

"I doubt it. Mind you, I'm not sure they'd mind as much as you'd think. To be honest," here he leaned in, whispering conspiratorially. "Even I'm beginning to wonder whether Arthur's really fit to be King." He gulped. This was the first time Leon had voiced these thoughts aloud, but he reasoned that Mordon could probably be trusted.

The dark-haired Knight leaned in too. "I know what you mean. A leader needs to know how to move on after tragedy. He's just remained in the same place ever since the execution. And Uther's no better. Did you know they had another falling out yesterday?"

Leon nodded. "Yes. It's why Arthur's not here today- he's been banned from training for the next couple of days."

"Again."

They shared a disapproving look, then turned to face the field. A quick glance over those practising there told the pair that the Knights had at least settled in to an adequate rhythm. To be honest, neither of the two could be bothered to correct the mistakes ranging the field anyway. Everyone was restless- Leon and Mordon included- and it was making them impatient on the battlefield. Prone to more slip-ups than usual. And they just couldn't find it in them to care all that much.

"You want a go?"

Leon grinned determinedly, turning to face his friend of twelve years. "You bet."

They passed the next hour or so sparring each other, minds tuned out of the useless battles dotted around them. Neither man could quite hold back the thought that, even if they _had_ paid attention to the others and offered their advice, there would be no improvement. It was something they had come to realize during the past few months. That they were simply _better_. In more ways than one.

Finally they broke off, each giving a rueful smile as an admittance that they themselves were at roughly equal levels. Leon tried to hold back his irritation at the thought. _He_ was supposed to be the best on this field. It was why he was always placed in charge in Arthur's many absences, and Mordon always second. What business did the guy have trying to act like they had the same level of talent?

But, being the good Knight he was, he decided to let it go. For now.

After a quick scan of the field, he decided that it was about time to give the order to break it up. It wasn't like the morons would get any better anyway, no matter how long they trained. They weren't like _him_. He was special.

He paused for a moment, a strange thought nagging at his mind. Did he _used_ to think he was special?

But the thought was gone as fast as it had come- thrown away as you would unnecessary garbage. He knew he was the best. So of course that made him special.

The next five minutes were spent overseeing as the Knights left the training fields. By the end of it, both Leon and Mordon were feeling completely exasperated. How much did you need to yell at those stupid imbeciles and their squires to get them to move just that little bit faster? It was ridiculous how useless the lumps could be sometimes.

As they trudged back in to the castle, they saw Kennard up ahead, staring up at the Prince's windows with a contemplative frown on his face. As was customary between the two brothers, Mordon attempted to sneak up behind his younger sibling and take him by surprise. But, as usual, the younger man simply stepped out of the way at the last minute. A flicker of immense annoyance flashed across Mordon's eyes, before he grinned at his brother and ruffled his already tousled black hair.

"As observant as always," stated Mordon proudly. "I guess I should have known better than to try to sneak up on my little brother, eh?"

Kennard simply swatted Mordon's hand off, then turned his faraway eyes towards Leon. Leon shifted slightly under the younger man's gaze. He knew Kennard was an idiot, but there was always the odd disconcerting moment when it almost felt like the man was analysing him whenever he studied him like that- like those shimmering silver eyes were capable of staring straight through to a man's very soul. It was unnerving to say the least.

He turned his eyes away from the younger man's gaze, and was just opening his mouth to suggest to Mordon that they continue on towards the Knight's quarters, when a whisper from his friend stopped him in his tracks.

"Leon you obnoxious moron, would you just leave already so that I can talk to my brother?"

He spun to face his fellow Knight, and was met by the same furious glare he knew must be on his own face.

"What did you call me?"

The two men froze, as is generally the customary thing to do when two people have just spoken exactly the same words at exactly the same time. Their eyes narrowed.

Leon was the first to speak, his voice low and threatening.

"You just called me an obnoxious moron."

"No, _you_ called _me_ a thimble-minded son of a troll."

"I said no such thing."

Mordon drew himself up, obviously (at least as far as Leon was concerned) pretending to be highly offended. "You dare to impugn my honour? You dare to suggest that I would lie- that I would go against the Knight's code?"

"Well I sure as hell didn't, so it stands to reason that you must have."

They were inches apart now, eyes fixed in a match of death-glares. Both were entirely oblivious to the way young Kennard's brows had suddenly furrowed, his eyes sharpening as they only did when he had worked out something which he had been puzzling over. In fact, all that Leon was noticing was the blind rage he felt swelling up throughout his body. Unable to contain it any longer, he shoved Mordon as hard as he could in the chest, watching with satisfaction as his so-called _friend_ staggered back a few steps.

Mordon, completely overcome with fury now, leaped forward, tackling Leon to the ground.

And so the fight began.

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><p>Kennard could only watch, amazed, as the older brother he had admired all his life rolled around on the floor like a common thug. If he didn't know any better, he'd have thought that the two older Knights were intoxicated. Or sworn enemies. But they'd been friends for years, and there was no way they would have had access to mead whilst training.<p>

In short, there was no logical reason for the two men to be having this fight.

Which, in turn, meant that there had to be an illogical one.

But, while that was important, it wasn't a thought for this specific moment in time. A crowd was gathering, and goodness knows the Knights of Camelot had gained enough bad publicity throughout the city lately without rumours beginning to fly about brawls in broad daylight.

So Kennard did the only thing he could- he stepped in to try and stop the fight.

Which, as it turned out, wasn't as easy as it sounded.

One moment Leon was sitting on top of Mordon, pounding his fists in to the other man's already bloodied face, the next Mordon had kicked Leon off and was digging his elbow in to his friend's stomach. If the low-handed blows were anything to go by, the Knight's code most certainly didn't apply right now. Kennard had to weave about for a minute or two, desperately trying to get close enough to stop the two older men _without_ being whacked by one of the many flailing limbs. In fact, it wasn't just difficult, it was downright _impossible_- as Kennard found out when a stray punch from his brother sent him flying back on to the cobblestones.

He hissed in pain, massaging his wounded jaw, at the same time keeping his his head as still as possible, willing the new-found dizziness and nausea he felt to go away. It wasn't until a strong-looking arm appeared in his field of vision that he noticed that all sounds of fighting had stopped.

Looking up, he found himself staring in to the now lucid, worried eyes of his elder brother. That same old look which had made the man such a favourite back at their family's estate. Grateful, but somewhat bemused, he took the arm Mordon had offered him and used it to pull himself back up on to his feet. As soon as he was up, Mordon started patting him down, looking for all the world like a big, gentle dog who had just accidentally bitten his master's hand.

"I am _so_ sorry Ken, I don't know what came over me. Are you alright? I didn't hit you too hard did I? How's your head? Your vision? Your hearing?"

Kennard had to hold back a snort. "I'm fine Mordon, I think I was just a bit surprised." As he should be. Outside of training, Mordon had never laid a hand on his younger brother in all the years they'd been together. He looked around once more, just in time to see Leon storm away and in to the castle, before realizing that Mordon was still in the process of patting him down. He swatted the older man's hands away, grinning to reassure him. "Look, I told you I'm fine. What I really want to know is just what possessed you back there."

Mordon frowned confusedly, staring down at his hands as though they were suddenly someone else's.

"I don't know," he answered slowly. "I know he's been kind of frustrating me lately, but I never thought I would just lose it like that."

"One question."

"What?"

"Could you tell me precisely when he started annoying you? You two used to get along almost as well as we do."

Mordon blinked a few times, his hand tapping against his thigh as it always did when he was thinking hard. When he did finally answer, he spoke almost tentatively, as though he wasn't really sure of what he was saying.

"I'm not really sure. I guess maybe... a few months now? Maybe about five? It's been sort of a gradual thing."

Kennard just nodded at his brother, his suspicions confirmed. "Alright. I'll see you later."

And with that he walked off, leaving a rather confused Mordon in his wake.

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><p><strong>Man- I don't know if any of you have ever realized this, but it's kind of hard to write a Merlin story without Merlin. Well, at least this way my sadistic streak is somewhat appeased, in that I get to torture my readers. See- told you I'm evil. Even if I do love you guys really.<strong>

**Thanks so much for all the reviews and stuff I've received so far. You should give me more- even if it's only so you can get to imagine the look on my family members' faces when I suddenly start giggling, or talking about how I'm probably going to receive a death threat any day now. Lol.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Wowzas- over 50 reviews in total. Thank you so much guys. That's an average of about 10 reviews per chapter! I'm so happy! (Although, being the greedy creature I am, I really wouldn't hold it against you if ever more of you chose to review :P)**

**Alright, here we go XD**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

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><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

Three days after Arthur and his group had returned from their patrol, the Prince was finally allowed out of his room. For a council meeting. As he walked in to the council chambers he went straight to his seat, barely even sparing his father a single glance except for the customary nod expected of him.

The meeting originally seemed as though it would pass without incident. They started off by discussing the collection of taxes from the outlying villages, and once that was resolved talk finally turned to the matter of the kingdom's border situation. For the first time during the entire meeting, Uther finally spoke to his son.

"Arthur," he inquired, "you said you had encountered a group of Alined's men the other day."

Arthur faced his father determinedly, knowing that he had to push his personal feelings aside for now if he was going to get Uther to listen to him. "I did. We were about a league east of the village of Fairley when we encountered the enemy. Our scouts counted thirty-five men- at least five of them Knights. We were able to emerge victorious, but lost eleven men in the process."

"And what would you suggest?"

"Well, as far as I am aware, Alined's men have been seen entering our borders systematically over the course of the past three months. We have also received reports of similar circumstances regarding Cenred's men, together with Sewell's and even Bayard's. I would suggest sending emissaries to each country, as well as strengthening our own border defences."

Uther nodded. "I shall arrange for messengers to be sent out within the week. I trust I can leave the issue of border patrols to you?"

"Of course father. If you'll just allow me to cut down the number of men sent out for the searches, then I can-"

"No."

Arthur froze, not quite able to believe what he was hearing. "No?"

"No. I cannot allow the reduction of men in the searches. There are more than enough Knights left in the city each time. It should not prove difficult to supplement the border patrols we already have."

"But father," Arthur replied, trying hard to remain calm, "if we do that then the city won't be well enough protected."

"I will not give up on finding Morgana!" Uther was practically yelling now, and Arthur was finding it difficult not to follow suit.

"No-one is telling you to give up on Morgana, but the entire Kingdom is at stake here. We cannot allow the kingdom to fall just because-"

"I have said _no_ Arthur. You will arrange the patrols with the men you have left."

"But-"

"I have given my final word!"

Nobody spoke for several moments after that, although there were a few council members who shifted uncomfortably in their chairs. Arthur would have liked to think that, if it weren't for the diminished relationship he now had with his father, Uther would have heeded his request. Unfortunately, he knew it wasn't so. The truth was, however much Uther cared about his kingdom, he cared about Morgana more. There would be no convincing him.

Eventually, Arthur managed to force out a brief sentence.

"As you wish, sire."

It was hard to pay attention to the rest of the meeting. Probably the only reason he managed to keep calm was by focusing on the fact that later on he would be joining the Knights for training later on for the first time since before the patrol. Practising on his own in his chambers would only take him so far. He needed real-life experience if he ever truly wanted to improve.

Until then, he decided, he would simply keep himself going with the knowledge that he would be out of sight of his father in just an hour or two.

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><p><em>'Now this<em>,' thought Arthur, as he strolled out on to the training field, '_this is what I needed._' He looked contentedly around the field, sword in hand, and breathed in deeply. His frustration was always knocked down a couple of notches whenever he came out here, even with Bennett standing in the spot which would usually have belonged to Merlin. He was a warrior- there was just something about being on a training field which would always be able to calm him down.

He split most of the men in to pairs, and spent the next half hour studying their movements, yelling out instructions where needed. For some reason, their overall ability seemed to have diminished dramatically since the last time he had seen them. He had noticed it the past couple of days whilst watching from his window, but had secretly been hoping that he had just been imagining it. Because if the Knights were deteriorating at this rate, then if it came to a battle then he wasn't too sure about Camelot's chances- especially with four different Kingdoms against them.

After about half an hour, he allowed the men to take a ten minute break, then called four of the better men- Vidor, Benedict, Kennard and Wade- to follow him. It was about time he got to let out some steam of his own.

He had the men surround him, one at each point of the compass.

"Alright- you know the drill. On my count, I want you to come at me as you would in a real battle. No holding back. See how long you can hold me back. Are you ready?" Four helmets went on, followed by four nods. Arthur put on his own headgear, lowering himself down in to position. He grinned confidently. "Bring it on, boys."

Wade was the first to come at him- the man had always been too quick to judge on the battlefield. Arthur stepped smoothly to the side, slamming the hint of his sword in to Wade's stomach, knocking the air out of him. Wade was on the floor in seconds, fighting for breath.

Next was Benedict, with Kennard following half a beat behind. This one was going to prove slightly more difficult- Benedict was a highly skilled and vicious fighter, and Arthur had long ago noticed Kennard's agile mind and swift feet when the younger man was in battle. Benedict would keep the Prince busy, and Kennard was an expert at spotting weak spots- weak spots he exploited with no hesitation.

Arthur parried a blow from Benedict, his sword shaking slightly under the impact. He tried to keep an eye on Kennard as the young Knight circled around behind him, possibly searching for a blind spot. Vidor, meanwhile, was still hopping from foot to foot, searching for a good point to join in.

A surge of exhilaration rushed through Arthur's body. This was just what he had been needing for weeks now- a trial without needing to run in to an enemy. A test of his abilities. He could feel his grin widening, thoughts of Merlin pushed to the back of his mind until the fight was over. He could win this. He just needed to stay focused.

A flash of reflected light to his left had him ducking just in time to see Kennard's sword swinging directly towards where his shoulder had been seconds before. He rolled to the side, leaping up so that all three of his opponents were in his view. He glanced between the three, searching for the most effective weak spot.

_There!_

Just as Benedict rushed forward once again, Arthur spun out of the way of the other Knight's sword. He thrust his fist up as hard as he could towards the now unprotected chin, sending his opponent sprawling on to his back, sword flying from his grip. Two down, two to go.

Kennard had stopped where he was, in the process of moving off to Arthur's left. He had Vidor beside him now. Both men were quick, and Arthur had never known Kennard to make a stupid mistake. He was definitely the biggest threat here.

Vidor, however, was a different matter. He had been getting more rash lately, as had all the other Knights (apart from Kennard, it seemed). And on top of that, the short-haired Knight had a strange light in his eyes. Almost dangerous. It was a look Arthur had never seen before in training, but only in the heat of battle. And whatever the reason behind it, the look sent an immediate warning to his brain. He tensed, about to call the fight off before Vidor did something he would regret later.

Until Vidor rushed towards him, face twisted in to an ugly snarl.

Arthur parried the blow directed his way. Somewhere in the corner of his mind he registered the shock on Kennard's face, though it quickly turned in to comprehension. The Prince logged that away, far too focused on the fact that Vidor was raining down blow after blow to think about whatever it was Kennard had just concluded.

Vidor seemed practically possessed now- nothing like the jovial young man who usually passed his time cracking (extremely bad) jokes. And the madder he got, the less mistakes he seemed to be making. As shocked as the Prince was by his Knight's change in personality, it was no surprise that he was being forced back.

Forcing himself to calm down, Arthur readied himself for his counter attack. Hopefully it would end with Vidor either unconscious or restrained. He tried not to think of the worst case scenario.

Suddenly, he felt a movement beneath his feet. If he'd had the time, he would have cursed- it was Benedict's sword. He stumbled, forcing himself to prepare to roll away. He saw Kennard off to one side, eyes searching wildly for the best moment to intervene with the least level of injury to either party. Then, just as Vidor's sword fell one final time, Kennard just stopped, stepping back slightly, his expression certain.

Arthur would have yelled, if he weren't so focused on the sword flying towards him.

He remembered the protective tattoo less than a second before the shield blasted Vidor through the air.

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><p>Deep beneath the castle, a pair of normally blue eyes snapped open, flaring gold.<p>

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><p><strong>Bam!<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**Wow. I never dreamed I would get so many reviews for the last chapter- a single glimpse of Merlin's eyes opening actually seems to have succeeded in driving half of my readers mad! (Or, at least, more mad than you were before). If that's what one line did, I wonder how you'll take this...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

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><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

Deep beneath Camelot's castle, a pair of normally blue eyes snapped open, flaring gold.

Merlin frowned. By now he was used to the familiar tug on his magic he had come to associate with Arthur being in danger, but the frequency with which the dangers were occurring seemed to be increasing at an alarming rate. Besides, Arthur was in Camelot right now. And if the time was anything to go by, then he would probably be training with his Knights. What reason would he have for the tattoo's protective spell to react?

The young Warlock glanced up at the mock sun hovering somewhere near the centre of the ceiling. Or rather, the orb he liked to think of as a mock sun. Merlin had come up with the spell after discovering, in a rather unfortunate manner, that having a fire for a light source in such a confined space- even with a smokeless flame- led to rather alarming difficulties in breathing. That was certainly _not_ an experience he wanted to go through again. Instead, he had developed a small sphere of light- a spell he had perfected over time. Originally, the orb had simply turned dark at sunset, and begun shining again at sunrise. Now, as far as Merlin was aware, it perfectly mimicked the light levels outside, as well as the movement of the sun and moon across the sky. It was, even though he said so himself, a rather ingenious creation. He was sure anyone would agree. Once he got to talk to them.

Shaking his head, Merlin pushed aside all thoughts of his own genius, instead focussing on the matter at hand. Arthur. If someone was trying to kill Arthur inside of the city, then that could only mean one thing. Morgana and Morgause had kicked their plan in to the final stages. Because, other than the odd minor tingle at feasts and the like, there hadn't been any life-threateningly ill intent towards Arthur inside the city walls for at least the past four months.

Merlin wasn't stupid. He had made a lot of advancements with his magic in the time he had been in his cell. He had been able to keep an eye on what was going on in the Kingdom, and was also able to sense the faint tinges of magic trailing throughout Camelot. He was well aware that a large group of magic users were on their way to taking control of the throne. What he couldn't work out- not without being closer to either the source of the enchantment working it's way towards the kingdom's core, or at least some of it's vessels, was just what the intricate workings of the spell (or spells) were. There was no way he could analyse it. Or, at least, none that he knew of. And he knew a lot more about magic than he had six months ago. His magical knowledge up until then had all been based on need- things that were necessary to protect Arthur, and Camelot as a whole.

But all of those words- spells he had bypassed because of more urgent matters, or because he just hadn't had an interest in them at the time, pages he had skipped over in his quest for more relevant information- they were all there, all buried deep within his memory, just waiting to be explored.

And explore them he did. For months he had meditated on every word, delving in to the deep recesses of his mind so that not a single one would be left behind. He knew them all now, as intimately as a person knows their greatest friend. And, in return for his acknowledgement, they had aided him along the path of his destiny. He had experimented, thinking up spell after spell, binding each precious nugget of magic to his power. Never before had he been able to stretch his magic to such varying limits.

It was exhilarating.

And spells weren't all he had discovered. Merlin had wondered, ever since he had discovered that he was supposed to be the most powerful magic-user of all time, why it was that larger spells tired him to such an extent. It had never quite seemed to add up.

The truth was, it had all been through his own incompetence. He had been so used to instinctively using his magic that he had been too blind to realize that he had only ever dipped his toe in to the immense pool of power he held within him. A pool he had now discovered to be almost limitless.

The strange thing was, he would probably never have discovered this without spending such a long time in solitude. It was actually kind of ironic- that Uther, who had been intending to wipe out his magic, had actually been the one to give him the means to increase his abilities to such a degree.

And yet, behind the thrill of all of these new discoveries, there was always a bitter thought, a constant presence in his mind.

'_Arthur needs me._'

Because, yes, he was enjoying the time to discover new aspects of his power, but the need was still there. The need to be out there, protecting the people of Camelot with his own two hands, instead of stuck in a tiny cell. To be able to walk along the streets, conversing with any person he so desired.

The need to be free.

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><p><strong>Yeah. I'm still not going to be nice enough to tell you anything else about how he's doing physically. *shrugs* What can I say? I'm evil.<strong>

**Review? I gave you Merlin- surely that's worth a review :D**


	8. Chapter 8

***Stares gobsmacked at screen* Wah! Seven chapters in, and you lovely people have already given me 80 reviews! I guess taunting you with what's been happening with Merlin like this really pays off... Who would've guessed it?**

**Anyway, I'm updating this slightly earlier today (you lucky people) because I'm going out for a meal with a friend I haven't seen in Donkey's years (lucky me). So you should feel grateful for that person XD Not for me- because I'd be perfectly happy to torture you all for a bit longer. Because I'm evil like that :P**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

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><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

Arthur, breathing hard, stared down at the unconscious Knight on the floor at his feet. The ugly snarl had, thankfully, disappeared from Vidor's face, but there was still something in his expression , even whilst asleep, which made the Prince feel slightly uneasy.

Kennard swooped down from the side, checking on Vidor's breathing.

"Well?" Inquired Arthur.

"He's fine sire. He should hopefully come round in a few minutes. Should I fetch the Physician?"

Arthur shook his head. "No. He won't be seriously injured. But I do want to speak to him when he wakes up- help me get him inside."

Kennard nodded, evidently understanding that Arthur wanted to get Vidor out of view before someone realized precisely what was going on. The two took an arm each, hoisting the other Knight between them so that it looked like he was only slightly dazed (it was the first time Arthur found himself grateful that people had stopped watching his training battles). They took him in to the castle, then slipped into the nearest disused room they could find.

Once there Kennard moved without being instructed, moving a large, wooden chair to the centre of the room for Arthur to place Vidor on.

Then all that was left was to wait.

When Vidor finally came round, about ten minutes later, it was accompanied by several groans and by copious blinking. It took a few moments for his eyes to focus, at which point his gaze quickly settled on his Prince. Arthur hadn't seen a man go so pale so quickly since he'd caught a young servant boy gossiping about the King's marriage to the phony Lady Katrina.

Vidor jolted upright, sheer horror dawning on his face.

"Sire!"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Now- care to tell me what _that _was about?"

Vidor opened and closed his mouth, looking as though he was trying to think of the best way to phrase his answer. Then, suddenly, he was still, his body seemingly frozen in place. Hazel eyes glazed over, unseeing. Arthur and Kennard shot each-other worried glances, then leant forwards. All Arthur could think was that Vidor was having some kind of seizure.

But then there was a twitch, and Vidor was moving as though nothing had happened.

His eyes, though. His eyes told a completely different story. They looked more vague than usual- almost mesmerised. And when he turned those eyes to meet Arthur's, the Prince couldn't help but shiver.

"It wasn't about anything." His voice was no better- distant, and slow. It was as though he was speaking in a dream, or as Arthur had always imagined a ghost would speak.

Kennard stepped forward, speaking slowly. Deliberately. "Vidor, do you remember? You were fighting Prince Arthur. You tried to kill him."

A shake of the head. "No. The Prince is fine. I did no such thing. He just attacked me- threw me through the air. I did nothing wrong."

Alright, that was just too much for Arthur. He could feel his anger rising up in him once more.

"Vidor, snap out of it. We all know that you tried to kill me. My tattoo wouldn't have reacted otherwise."

"What tattoo? The Prince doesn't have a tattoo. Never has."

"Vidor, you know I have a tattoo. You were in the throne room when I first told my father about it. And don't you dare say that you did nothing- I know more about how this tattoo functions than anyone. Apart from maybe Merlin. The only time it ever reacts is when there is a danger to my life which I am incapable of stopping. And people are only knocked unconscious when there is intent to kill. There is no mistake on that front- what I want to know is _why_ you tried to do it."

"Nonsense. The Prince doesn't have a tattoo. Never has."

"Vidor-"

"Nonsense. The Prince doesn't have a tattoo. Never has."

"You just said th-"

"Nonsense. The Prince doesn't have a tattoo. Never has."

Arthur looked over at Kennard, then jerked his head towards the far corner of the room. They spoke in whispers, afraid that if Vidor heard them then it would set him off again. That bland repeating was just downright eerie.

"Do you know what's going on with him?"

"Not really, sire. My best guess would be some form of brainwashing."

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking hard. "I knew there was something wrong with most of the Knights, but I was hoping it was just unrest over the kingdom's situation. I never thought it would reach to this degree." His mind turned back to the fight, shifting through memories to try and find the precise moment Vidor had lost control of himself. That was when he remembered.

He turned to Kennard, trying to puzzle things out. "You figured something out during that fight. Like something had clicked in to place. And another thing- how did you know about my tattoo? You weren't even in Camelot six months ago." It wasn't that he didn't trust the younger Knight- he did, with his life- but Arthur hated not knowing what was going on around him. If Kennard knew something, and had been keeping it from him, then the young Prince had the right to know.

Kennard looked uneasy.

"I didn't really know about the tattoo, per say, sire."

"But you backed off- you knew that it would keep Vidor from killing me."

"As I said, sire, I didn't really know about the tattoo. But I've been on several patrols with you. I noticed that whenever someone attacked while your guard was down, some form of magic blasted them away. I just assumed it was a protective spell from that sorcerer friend of yours- Merlin. I didn't know what form it took."

"Wait- how do you know Merlin's name?"

"I asked my brother about it shortly after my arrival here."

Arthur grinned. He should have known Kennard would find out about the situation. He and Mordon had an incredible bond, so of course the young Knight would have been to see his brother once he'd realized that something was happening in Camelot.

"In that case, there's one thing you should know."

"What?"

"Merlin- he's a Warlock, not a sorcerer." He smiled good-naturedly at the young man in front of him. "Call him otherwise, and you'll only have yourself to blame if he turns you in to a toad."

Kennard laughed. "Well then, I guess I'd better keep that in mind."

They allowed the cheerful feeling to continue for a few moments. Arthur was the first one to break it- there was still one more thing he needed to know.

"You still haven't told me why you didn't seem very surprised by what happened."

"Well, while I haven't seen anything as serious as what seems to have happened to Vidor," here both men looked over at the other person in the room. He was still staring of in to the distance, but at least he wasn't still repeating that same line over and over in that chilling tone. "I have seen some similar instances. Just two days ago, Mordon and Leon got in to a serious fight on their way back from training."

"I wasn't told of this. Is that why Mordon has those cuts and bruises on his face? I just assumed there had been an accident."

Kennard nodded his head. "It is sire. And as for why you weren't told, the matter was resolved quickly. But the circumstances only served to confirm my suspicions."

"Which are?"

The young Knight took a deep breath, steeling himself. Their eyes locked. "I believe the entirety of Camelot's people- bar me, you, and possibly a few others I am not aware of- are under some form of enchantment."

Arthur could hardly believe his ears. Was he to believe that all of Camelot had been placed under a spell, and nobody else had noticed? How blind would they all have had to be for such a thing to occur?

But the Prince had to admit that he had often been more focused on the situation with himself and his father than with the mood of the Knights. And even through all of that, he had still noticed that something was off.

He couldn't keep the images from his dream from barging to the front of his mind. Images of silent city. Of the entire Kingdom in a trance. Those eerie chants of 'Morgana.' And the Dragon's warning.

It all added up.

He gulped. "Tell me what you know."

"Well sire, as far as I could decipher-"

Kennard was cut off by a sudden cacophony of noises from outside of the room. Both men jerked their heads in the direction of the door, just in time to see Vidor dashing out of it. Arthur lunged after him, cursing under his breath. He knew that there was a good chance that they would still need to talk to the entranced Knight.

Yanking the door open, he wasn't expecting to see a stream of what seemed like everybody in the castle rushing towards the direction of the exits. He grabbed hold of the arm of one of the serving boys as he ran past, trying not to flinch as he noticed the same vague look in this boy's eyes as he had seen in Vidor's.

"What is going on?" He demanded. "Where are you all going?"

The boy tried to tug his arm free, obviously desperate to get outside.

So Arthur said the only thing he could. "Tell me, and I'll let you go. What has happened?"

"It's the Lady Morgana. The Lady Morgana has returned to Camelot!"

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><p><strong>*Shudders*<strong>

**Did I make that creepy enough? I mean, it's creepy in my head, but write a practically zombified person is harder than I thought it would be. And I didn't even realize he was _going_ to _be_ zombified until I was half-way through the chapter, so that just made it that much harder. Stupid characters- making me lose control of the story... Well, as long as they stick to the main points, I guess I can't complain. I'm still in control... Just about...**

**Do I deserve a review?**


	9. Chapter 9

**Yeah... Sorry people- looks like I accidentally put chapter eight up again... Oops. Here's the right one XD**

**Okay- over 90 reviews so far for this story, and after just eight chapters :D You have no idea how happy you guys make me- this is looking like it's going to be my most popular story yet. Which is odd, as it's the third in a series. But, no complaining here.**

**However, I do have a bone to pick with you guys- you seem to like this story too much! Thanks to your enthusiasm, my brain is now making up all sorts of things. If you're not careful, I may end up writing a million of these things. Man, it's so fun creating a new time line. It means that my mind is free to play with their lives as much as it wants too... In my head, I know things which aren't going to happen for months/years now! Grrr!**

**Anyway, brain train rant over...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

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><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>

Arthur barely even noticed as his arm dropped to his side. He didn't see the servant boy run off down the corridor. He didn't register the confused expression on Kennard's face as the young Knight studied his Prince's face.

All he knew was the disgusting feeling of pure horror creeping it's way up his spine, coupled with mind-numbing shock. Morgana was back. This couldn't be a coincidence. Everything that had happened- the spell which seemed to be running throughout the Kingdom, destroying all sense of security the people had previously held. And the events of his dream. It could only mean that Morgana had chosen her side.

The idea went against every fibre of his being, but he couldn't deny that it made perfect sense- Morgana had betrayed them all.

And now she was here to claim her Prize- Camelot.

Gradually, he started to notice that Kennard was shaking his arm worriedly. He snapped his face towards that of the young, dark-haired Knight, suddenly filled with an overwhelming sense of urgency.

"We have to get out of sight."

"Sire?"

"I mean it- we have to get out of sight. Somewhere no-one will suspect, but where we'll still be able to see what happens. I have to confirm something." He wasn't about to write Morgana off just like that- not unless he saw it with his own two eyes. But, at the same time, he couldn't risk losing the Kingdom's last line of defence if his suspicions were correct.

"We're not going to greet the Lady Morgana?"

"No- it's too dangerous. Trust me."

Kennard seemed to study his eyes for a moment, before nodding. "Where would you suggest?"

"There's a balcony overlooking the throne room. It has a view of the courtyard too- we can watch what happens."

Without another word, they dove out of the room. The route Arthur took them on was longer than he would have liked, but he felt it necessary to use as many minor corridors as possible- it wouldn't do for even one person to notice where they were going.

As they ran, Arthur couldn't stop thinking about Morgana. He had grown up with her, ever since Gorlois had died. They shared so many memories- happy times and sad times; falling outs and making ups; tears of grief and times of laughter. Yes, the two had had their differences, but he thought of her as his sister. And siblings were bound to fight sometimes. To even imagine her as an enemy tore him apart- what if she wasn't even recognisable any more as the girl she was in the past?

And even worse- what if she was?

Eventually finding their way to the balcony in question, the two settled themselves down on their fronts, making sure they would not be seen, and focused out of the windows on what was happening in the city outside. And there they waited.

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><p>Uther was in his chambers, alone, when he heard the commotion outside. He was about to order someone to go and check, when he heard a distant voice in his head.<p>

'_You don't need to check. It's what you've been waiting for._'

So it was Morgana then...

Uther let a small smile drift on to his face. This would make everything better. Arthur had betrayed him- turned against everything the King had worked for for over twenty years. But Morgana would never betray him. She had managed to find her way back, as he had always known she would. It was something the voices had been telling him, ever since he had first started hearing them over four months ago. He had known instinctively, back then, that he could trust the voices. And they hadn't guided him wrong so far.

Still smiling, he made his way towards the throne room, eager to greet his missing daughter.

The streets turned silent as she passed, the peoples' faces calming as she walked. She saw Sir Leon walking towards her, obvious worry on his face for her ragged appearance. He wasn't completely gone yet, but he would be soon. They all would. It was quite simple really- the spell hadn't been kicked in to it's final stages yet. And when it was, then Morgana was certain that _nothing_ would stop her and her sister.

"My Lady- you're alright."

She smiled weakly back at the sandy-haired Knight. The spell would never succeed unless she played her part perfectly until the time was right.

"Yes Leon, I'm alright. But I would like to see Uther as soon as possible."

He nodded understandingly. "Of course. You must be eager to see him. But may I ask-"

She cut in before he could ask the question, forcing some fake tears to swim across her vision. "That will have to wait I'm afraid. I am not certain I would be able to recall it more than once."

"Of course."

He took her arm, obviously believing her too weak to walk by herself. Morgana allowed a small, secrete smirk to flick across her features. If only they knew just what she was capable of.

Well, they would know soon enough. They just wouldn't care.

A few short minutes later found Morgana rushing across the floor of the throne room and flying in to the arms of the one man she hated most in the world. Or, at least, the one _living_ man. The most hated had almost certainly been that traitor, Merlin. In fact, even in death his name still made her blood boil with rage.

But that wasn't important right now. What _was_ important was that she stayed focussed on her goal. So as she stood there in the arms of her old guardian, she whispered the fatal words in to his ear.

"I have returned to you. Now let me speak."

It is was though the sound of her voice sent a jolt through Uther's body. He took her hand, guiding his ward to stand at his side, a sickeningly sweet smile on his face.

"Gather the council. The Lady Morgana wishes to address the court." Not that the order was necessary- by this time, even the oldest and most infirm of the council members had filed in to the room. She spied Gaius lurking in the corner, and felt a thrill of triumph run through her as she realized that his eyes were equally as vague as all the others in the room. As someone Merlin had treasured, it felt somewhat more special to conquer his mind than it did most of the others.

She shook her head, reminding herself once again that this was about more than just triumphing against '_Emrys,_' and begun addressing the crowd gathered before her.

"I want to thank you all for remaining loyal to me- for never giving up on me in all the months I've been away. I cannot describe just how difficult my time in captivity was." She purposefully faltered here, ducking her head as though finding it near impossible to speak. "The only thing which kept me going was knowing that you must have all been searching for me.

" It took me a lot of time and effort before I was able to escape from the witch, Morgause-"

She paused, admiring the fact that everybody in the room had gone completely still as she mentioned her sister's name, her eyes glittering dangerously. Trigger word one was successful.

"-But I am pleased to say that I have managed to return now, and it is thanks to the efforts of the people of Camelot. It was thanks to the distractions-"

Every face went blank, and they stared at her, unseeing. Trigger two: complete.

"-caused by Camelot's Knights that I was able to escape. And now, I have come home, to the one person who is more important to me than any of you will ever know. My guardian, and your King," _for now_, "Uther Pendragon."

And with the naming of the tyrant King, the final trigger was set, and the spell was entirely complete. Uther froze beside her, and raised his voice so that everyone could hear him.

"I now announce that the Lady Morgana will replace my son, Arthur, as sole heir to the throne of Camelot. The ceremony will take place this afternoon."

A round of uproarious applause echoed around the room, and for the first time Morgana looked around to see Arthur's expression. Even if it was just vague acceptance, she wanted this moment of triumph to feel complete.

And that was when she realized, with a surge of pure fury, that Arthur wasn't in the room.

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><p>Kennard could hardly believe what he was hearing. He and the Prince had watched, silently and unseen, as the Lady Morgana made her way up through the streets of Camelot. He had to admit to being confused when Arthur had first suggested that they remain hidden, but the intense look in the older man's eyes was enough to convince Kennard that this was crucially important to him.<p>

And then Morgana had begun her speech, and Kennard had been quick to notice that the people down below them were becoming increasingly blank-faced at random intervals while she spoke. The realization was terrifying for him, so he could only imagine how hard it must be for the Prince to watch the unfolding evidence that his foster-sister seemed to have turned against them.

And matters could, he reasoned, only have been made worse when Uther announced that he was disinheriting his son.

That was when Kennard finally found it in him to sneak a peek at the blond lying beside him. He was nervous, expecting to find a shocked Arthur brimming with indignant anger. He was _not_ expecting for the Prince's face to be set in an expression of grim determination.

'_He knew,_' Kennard realized, '_or at least suspected._'

Arthur's insistence that the two of them- possibly the only two who were unaffected by the spell- remained hidden- It made sense now. Kennard wasn't sure how long, but to him is was obvious from the Prince's expression that he had at least had suspicions about his foster-sister for a while now. Suspicions which were now confirmed.

It was while he was trying to digest this information that Arthur turned to face him.

"We'll wait here for a while longer," the Prince whispered, "until the room has cleared slightly. Once we're sure we'll be able to escape unnoticed, then we'll be on our way."

"Where to?"

A fiery glint appeared in Arthur's eyes. "To the dungeon. I think it's about time a certain Warlock was released."

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><p><strong>Alright- hopefully that deserves a review. I'm going to set you guys a challenge. The maximum number of reviews for a single chapter so far is 16. Well, 15 really, as fortheloveofcamelot had to split a review. So, your challenge is to see if you can beat that number. Because you're turning me in to a review-a-holic. Virtual good-guy cookies and virtual golden magic eyes for anybody who assists in beating the record. XD<strong>

**ps. This is not a desperate plea. Honest...**


	10. Chapter 10

**Okay. 16 reviews last chapter- thank you guys sooooooo much XD Well, 16 does _technically_ beat the sort-of 15 for chapter six, so congratulations to all who reviewws- you each get a cookie of your choosing, and a pair of virtual magic golden eyes. Bravo! I've decided that the competition should continue. So, if I ever get more than 16 reviews between the posting of two chapters, those who contribute will earn a either a ride on a Unicorn or the chance to play paintball with Uther.**

**Now, time for a forewarning. With tomorrow being Easter, it may be that I won't have time to get the next chapter written until Monday. If so, then you can imagine me giving a Dogeza (look it up :P). Just because I've always wanted to do one... **

**On to the chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

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><p><strong>Chapter 10<strong>

It was, Arthur had decided, about time for him to act. The Dragon in his dream had been right about how he had begun to realize where the true danger to Camelot lay. He had started to work it out long ago. Even before Merlin had told him about Morgana's magic, it had not been hard for him to spot his foster-sister's anger towards her guardian steadily increase over the few years before her disappearance. He just hadn't wanted to admit it. But now it was time for him to stop denying it. Instead, he had to stop her. And there was only one way he would be able to do that.

'_You are but one side of the coin._' That was what the Dragon had said. And maybe, just maybe, it would be possible now for him to make it to where the other side of the coin was kept.

He had, of course, tried several times to release Merlin at the beginning of the young Warlock's imprisonment. It was the very least he owed his best friend. Unfortunately, his father had seen fit to position a team of the strongest Knights- each one loyal only to the King- to guard the passageways leading to that dungeon. It had been impossible to get through.

But now those Knights were most likely caught in Morgana's thrall. In fact, he had seen one of them in the throne room. If Vidor was anything to go by then, while so heavily under the spell, the people would be unaware of anything the witch sisters themselves didn't know. Which meant that, hopefully, the dungeon would no longer be guarded. After all, no-one seemed to think of Merlin as alive any more. Perhaps that meant that Morgana and Morgause didn't know?

And so it was that, when Kennard asked him where they would be going, there had only been one answer he could give. They were going to get Merlin.

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><p>It was a good fifteen minutes before Arthur deemed it safe to move. Morgana had been whisked off to her room to freshen up, and most of the other people had left, faces blank, to search for the missing Prince. It would only be a matter of time before one of them would think of the small balcony above the throne room. And the two Knights could not afford to be there at that time.<p>

So they made their way through the corridors, slinking round corners, ducking behind pillars, and diving in to rooms if necessary. The castle was packed with people from all branches of life- it seemed as though Morgana had even roped in people from as far as the lower town to aid in the search for her prey. Arthur wondered at first about how she had spread the word so quickly, but after a quick whispered conversation with Kennard he thought he had it figured out.

The spell, it seemed, may not just have the effect of mind control. It may well be possible that the witch sisters had found a way to project their orders mentally. Or maybe the people were tied to Morgana's will. Who knew?

However it was done, it was bad news.

They managed to avoid running in to anyone, although there were several close calls. They made it so that they were just two passages away from the main cells without incident.

Until, that was, Guinevere stepped out from behind a pillar.

Arthur stopped in his tracks, Kennard skidding to a halt behind him. He stared at the woman he loved, relief surging through his body. Surely if she was down here, then that meant that she was safe. That she wasn't affected. It was possible. After all, _he_ had somehow managed to avoid the spell's effects- maybe she had too?

Nevertheless, now was the time for caution. He had to make absolutely certain.

"Guinevere?" He whispered, ignoring the startled expression on his companion's face. "Are you alright? It's me- Arthur. Do you understand?"

She smiled, and it was such a sweet, gentle smile that he had to resist the urge to rush right over and pull her in to his embrace. She was fine.

"Arthur."

He froze. Her voice sounded the same as always, but there was a strange edge to it that told him it would be dangerous to stay with her.

_'No,'_ he thought. '_Please no. Not her._'

And then she stepped out of the shadows, and the first thing he noticed was her eyes. They were blank and slightly unfocused, and her pupils were wide. Then there was the sound of metal scraping against metal, and his gaze was drawn to the sword the young woman was now holding at the ready.

"Guinevere?"

"I've been looking for you." And there it was again- that voice which was Guinevere's, but at the same time so inherently _not_ hers. It tore at his heart to see her like this, leaving him helpless to do anything but stare at her.

Then another metallic sound to his right jolted him from his reverie, and he jerked his head around just in time to see Kennard readying his own sword. Alarmed, he thrust his arm out to take hold of the young Knight's sword arm.

"What," he hissed, "do you think you're doing?"

Kennard's brow furrowed ever so slightly. "We need to make our way past, sire. And I don't think she's just going to let us go. We're going to have to knock her out."

"What?" he shook his head. "No. No, we can't."

"Sire, we must. Don't worry- there won't be any lasting damage."

Arthur couldn't refute the man's logic, but every ounce of his being screamed against the idea of seeing Guinevere injured in any way, shape or form. And to see it done under his own volition would, he was sure, haunt him for months.

Kennard must have seen the panicked indecision in the Prince's eyes, because he frowned, his silver eyes shifting between the blond-haired noble and the mesmerised maidservant. Then his expression softened.

"I understand sire."

Arthur sighed in relief, then began scanning the surrounding area, thinking hard. Surely there was a way for them to get out of this without hurting Guinevere. There had to be.

Then a clash of metal made him swing back to face the source of the sound.

"No!"

But there was no stopping the battle in front of him now, and Arthur knew it. If he tried to step in, then at least one of the people fighting would most likely end up dead.

So all he could do was watch. Watch as the girl he treasured most in the world held her own against one of the most promising Knights he had trained in years. For a moment, he found himself unable to decide who he should be rooting for. Logically, he should be willing for Kennard to emerge victorious, but Arthur just couldn't bring himself to wish any form of harm on Guinevere.

But, after about half a minute, it was clear who the winner would be. While it was undeniable that Gwen had talent, she wasn't putting all of her concentration into beating Kennard, but instead she was simply trying to force her way through to Arthur. A dangerous strategy, and one Arthur had no doubt she wouldn't have chosen were she in her right mind. So when Kennard broke through the maid's guard and hit the back of her neck, sending her crashing to the floor, the Prince couldn't honestly say he was surprised.

But that didn't stop him from diving forward and kneeling at Guinevere's side, gently feeling the back of her head to make sure she was alright.

Reassured, he glared up at Kennard, trying to restrain the urge to punch the younger man.

"What did you do that for?"

Kennard looked suitably repentant. "I'm sorry sire. It was the only way."

"No- no, we could have found something-"

"Arthur. You know that's not true."

It was the use of his name, more than anything else, which made Arthur stop. He looked back down, stroking the back of one hand down the side of the unconscious maid's face, for that single moment not even caring about the fact that someone was watching. Besides, knowing Kennard, he had probably realized the truth of the Prince's feelings anyway.

He gulped, knowing that they had to move on, but unwilling to leave Gwen just lying in the hallway. However, he was not stupid enough, or blind enough, to think that they would make it the rest of the way carrying her. What if they ran into more entranced citizens? What if she got hurt? No, there was only one place where she would be safe for now. And then he could come back for her later.

With that in mind, he hoisted the young woman in to his arms, then struggled to his feet.

"Come on."

"Sire, we can't take her with us."

Arthur rolled his eyes. It looked like they were back to formal titles. That certainly hadn't lasted long.

"I know that. I just want to get her out of the way. Now let's go."

Kennard didn't say another word, and they begun to move once more.

A couple of minutes later (although it seemed much longer than that) and they were locking a cell door behind them, Arthur taking a few moments to stare sadly down at the sleeping woman now lying on the cell floor. '_I'll be back,_' he thought, hoping beyond all hopes that Gwen would know it when she woke up. '_I promise._'

Then they were moving again, dodging through corridor after corridor, going deeper and deeper in to the bowels of the castle, grabbing a torch on the way. And, finally, breathing heavily, they drew to a halt outside beside a solid metal slab of a door.

Arthur stood for a moment, staring at the door. This was it. He had finally made it.

He snapped himself out of it, and begun fumbling through the keys at his waist, searching for the one he had prepared all those long months ago. The one he never went anywhere without. And then, with his hands shaking, he reached out and fitted the key in the lock.

Then, with a sharp, resounding click, the door unlocked, and Arthur pushed it open.

He could hardly believe what he saw.

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><p><strong>La la la *Skipping away from any and all projectiles thrown my way* Enjoy the wait :P<strong>

**ps. Review. Or I may be even more mean *grins maniacally***


	11. Chapter 11

**Alright people, two church services, one Easter egg hunt, and a long meeting with a friend I haven't seen in about seven months, and I finally managed to find time today to write this. To be honest, I was worried I may not have it done in time, but I think I've got it just about right. Although some parts did surprise me. Well, I won't keep you any longer. Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

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><p><strong>Chapter 11<strong>

Arthur could hardly believe it. All of these months of waiting, all the time he had spent feeling like he was going mad, and now... now...

"Merlin?"

A pair of blue eyes snapped towards him, and Merlin broke out in to a goofy grin. "Ah! Arthur. Welcome. It's about time you got here."

"Merlin?"

"What?"

"Are you... jogging on the spot?"

"Why yes. Yes I am."

Arthur could feel his eyebrow beginning to raise already. "Why?"

"Well, I figured I'd get some exercise done while I was down here. I mean, I needed to do _something_ to make up the time I'd usually spend running after you."

"Right... And, the beard is for...?"

"Oh, the beard?" Merlin raised his arm, stroking the two-inch beard which was now protruding from his chin. "For fun really. I needed something to keep me occupied, so I decided to see how much it would grow before I got out. What do you think? Does it suit me?

Arthur was torn- his relief at seeing Merlin alive and well after so much time warring with frustration over his friend's blatant flippancy. After a few short seconds, though, his relief won out, and before he knew it the two of them had burst out laughing.

That was when Kennard chose to enter the room. The younger Knight had stayed in the passageway outside at first, out of respect for his Prince's long-awaited reunion, but evidently curiosity had got the better of him. He looked around the cell, his eyes widening with every new thing he saw.

"Wow. This is _not_ what I was expecting."

Two sets of eyes turned towards the young Knight, with Merlin being the first to speak.

"Who's this?"

Arthur beckoned the startled- looking dark-haired man over. "This is Kennard. He joined the Knights a while after you'd..." He died off, watching as a strange flicker of emotion crossed his friend's eyes. "He joined a few months ago."

There was an uneasy silence in the cell for a few moments, before Kennard stepped forward, holding out his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Merlin."

"You too."

The two men stood for a short while, hands grasped. Arthur watched as each of them studied the other, clearly searching each-others faces. Kennard seemed slightly awed, while Merlin simply looked as though he were puzzling something out. Finally, Arthur had had enough, and a short cough from him made the two jump apart. He turned, gesturing around the small room.

"Still, I can understand Kennard's reaction. What on earth is all of this?"

The cell was unrecognisable as the dank, dark prison Merlin had first been locked in. Miniature fruit trees stood against one wall, each one about as tall as Merlin himself. There was a small, stone basin in one corner, filled with some of the clearest water Arthur had ever seen. Another corner housed a large pile of bread, resting on a stone slab, and in the centre of the room was a small, but very solid-looking, bed made of what appeared to be densely-woven straw. There was an orb of light drifting up near the ceiling, and about a hundred wisps of gold floating around the room, diving in and out of the trees.

Even Merlin himself was different. The golden mist which had encircled him the last time the Prince and he had been together was gone, but there still remained a strange aura around him, as though he was somehow more confident. But, at the same time, there was a sort of weakness hidden beneath that confidence- a vulnerability Arthur had never seen to such a degree in his friend, even through all of the younger man's previous troubles.

Merlin smiled cheerily, and Arthur couldn't help the uneasy feeling that Merlin was trying to cover something up. He was about to mention it when the young Warlock started his explanation, pointing at each object in turn.

"That's my food pile. I didn't exactly get that much food-"

Arthur flinched at this- he had had a suspicion that his father hadn't been treating Merlin well over the months- it was the cause of several of their arguments. Luckily, Merlin didn't seem to notice his involuntary action (although Arthur was fairly certain that Kennard did).

"-so I experimented with a few growth and freshness spells. They worked best on the bread, so I kept a lot of that, just in case I got peckish. I did the same thing with some water- hence the basin." He grinned at this, but this time it was obvious that he was trying to shield himself in case Arthur decided to delve in too deep. The Prince could only imagine how hard it must have been for his friend at first, before he worked out those spells. He must have felt like he was going to starve to death.

"What about the trees?" Asked Kennard. Arthur was a bit surprised- Kennard rarely asked _anyone_ questions, let alone a man he had only just met. Merlin, meanwhile, simply grinned again.

"Oh, that's my grove. I used the pips from a few apples I was given, together with some water, and managed to get them to grow some pretty nice fruit. You should try some. It's good."

Arthur thought it was about time he stepped in. He'd noticed that Merlin had been purposefully avoiding one particular abnormality in the room, and he was determined to find out why. "What about those flecks of gold? What are they?"

Merlin froze in the process of picking an apple. His shoulders tensed, in a gesture Arthur recognised from before he had found out that his friend was a Warlock. It was one he only ever used when he didn't want to talk about something.

"They're...nothing."

Arthur could imagine the shifty look in his friend's eyes, and it didn't make him happy. However long they had been apart, and even though Merlin had changed, it was still easy for the young Prince to spot when he was lying.

"Merlin- what are they?"

"I told you- they're nothing. Just a random little thing I was doing. They're-"

"Counters."

Arthur turned towards Kennard. "Counters? What do you mean?"

"Well this is just an estimate, but there seems to be coming up to two hundred of them. It makes sense that there is one for each day."

So that was it. As Merlin's shoulders sagged, his eyes meeting those of the Prince once more, Arthur finally recognised precisely what the emotion was that Merlin was trying to hide. Loneliness. Intense, and painful, and not yet passed. It was an emotion most people skirted around- one often deemed unimportant. But loneliness can tear a man apart. It can change him. Arthur had seen it before, and had felt it himself. Loneliness was a poison which tore at a man's soul. And for someone like Merlin, who had always loved to be around people- who had experienced more than his fair share of loneliness while growing up- this particular emotion was quite possibly the worst he could experience.

And he had been forced to live with it for six months. Because Arthur had failed to protect him.

"I'm sorry."

Merlin smiled that stupid smile which Arthur had long ago come to associate with the man's pain. "What for? You didn't do anything. You just wanted to know what they were. Now you know. Counters. A hundred and ninety-three of them to be precise."

"You know that's not what I meant."

Arthur stared at Merlin for a moment, willing the young Warlock to just face him. To trust him enough to show him his true feelings. But Merlin just wouldn't look at him. And that hurt. It hurt to such a degree that part of the Prince wanted to run from the room- to ignore the matter. But he couldn't. So, instead, Arthur chose another course of action. He walked over to Merlin, drew back his arm, and punched the idiot right in the jaw.

Merlin fell to the floor, rubbing his jaw with a shocked expression on his face. Kennard started forward to intervene, but Arthur just held out an arm to stop him. He looked down at the young man at his feet.

"Hit me."

Merlin just giggled nervously, clambering to his feet. "What?"

"Hit me. I know you want to. I hit you- it's only fair. So do it."

"Arthur, I'm not going to-"

"Hit me!"

"No!"

Arthur took a deep breath. "Please."

There was silence, apart from the faint shuffling sounds as Kennard slowly backed away to the door frame. Arthur, waiting for Merlin's reaction, simply watched his friend. Merlin was just staring at him as though he had gone mad. So Arthur chose to say it one last time. Ever so quietly, and just slightly pleading. Because he deserved this. In fact, he deserved so much more than this.

"Hit me."

And then there was another smile shot his way, but this one was grateful. Understanding. And the next thing he knew he was stumbling backwards, massaging a sore jaw. He laughed ruefully.

"You know what, Merlin? You've got quite a good punch there."

"You're not so bad yourself, prat."

The oh-so-familiar insult was the final key. The two men straightened up, tears swimming in both sets of eyes. Arthur grinned.

"It's good to have you back."

Merlin nodded, beaming. "Right then, down to business." He tilted his head slightly to the side. "We've got a kingdom to save."

"Merlin? Before we save the kingdom..."

"What?"

"Get rid of the beard. It looks ridiculous."

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><p><strong>Phew! Finally- a chapter where I can include a bit of light-heartedness! At long last!<strong>

**Did you _really _think I would be so mean as to starve Merlin half to death? Come on- that's not evil. It's just plain mean. And as for Arthur, randomly deciding to punch Merlin without telling me. Not that I mind, but I do wish the characters would at least give me a couple of lines warning before they do something like that.**

**By the way, congratulations to the seventeen people who reviewed last chapter- you all get to choose between a ride on a Unicorn and a Paintball fight with Uther. Just let me know where, when, and which one you choose, and I'll write up a timetable. Did I mention how much I love you for reviewing?**

**And, yes. I gave Merlin a beard. I even had to research how fast one would grow. The average would be three inches in six months, but I just don't see Merlin as being a fast grower of beards...**

**Review? The next competition prize is one of Merlin's golden wisps. They can change in to any shape you ask them to.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Well, it's a short chapter today I'm afraid. It just ended at just the right moment, and you know how I love to taunt all you lovely people *Evil Grin***

**Thanks for all the reviews. No records broken today, so yesterday's prize remains unclaimed. The number to beat is 17, people. Remember, the prize if you can beat that is a golden wisp for anyone who reviews :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

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><p><strong>Chapter 12<strong>

Morgana was fuming. The search for Arthur had been going on for almost an hour now, and there was still no sign of the spoiled Prince. But she had learnt from one of her people that the Prince had been on the training grounds earlier that day. In short, there was only one possibility which would explain his absence.

The dark-haired beauty waltzed over to her vanity table and picked up a small, hand-carved mirror. She drew up an image of her sister in her mind, concentrating hard to ensure that every detail of the older woman's face was perfect. A few seconds later, Morgause herself appeared as an image on the mirror's surface.

"Sister. What is wrong?"

Morgana fought hard to contain her frustration. For so long they had planned this- everything should have been perfect. She took a second to swallow her emotions. Morgause had taught her that she must remain calm and logical at all times.

"It's Arthur. He's gone."

Morgause's brow furrowed, her expression quizzical. "Gone? What do you mean? The spell's final stage began once you set foot in Camelot. He should have headed directly to the throne room."

"I know. But he wasn't there. I've had the whole city searched- there's no sign of him."

There was silence for a few moments, both women trying to digest the meaning of this information. Morgause was the first to speak, her expression sour.

"It is possible that the Prince may have a resistance to this form of magic."

"How is that possible?"

"The ability to resist a mental attack is rare- I have only heard of a handful of cases where such an event occurred, and those people were always either powerful sorcerers or people with an inbuilt mental block. We must assume that Arthur is one of the few who have some form of resistance. He must have sensed that something was wrong and concealed himself."

"But we need to find him- he could ruin everything. The spell is not entirely complete yet. If he finds a way to break it-"

"He won't."

"But-"

"Sister, the Prince is an idiot. Besides, he has little to no knowledge of the intricacies of enchantments. It is impossible for him." Morgause paused for a moment, thinking. "Has Uther made you the heir yet?"

"No- the ceremony is set for tomorrow."

"We'll have to push the plan forward. With Arthur missing, even if he can't undo the enchantment, there is a good chance that he will escape and search for someone who can. He has some measure of sympathy from some members of the magical community. The druids may decide to step in."

Morgana nodded, determined to make her sister proud. "What would you have me do?"

"I will ensure the spell's process is speeded up. It is almost complete now anyway- there will be no problems with doing so at this stage. Besides, nobody is even going to notice anything strange- not with them so deeply under our control. You must convince Uther to bypass the ceremony and go straight to the next phase. It should not be hard."

"Very well. I shall return to his side immediately."

The two sisters smirked, revelling in what they were sure was a certain victory. Then Morgause's image faded from the mirror, but not before she uttered one final line.

"Farewell sister, and good luck. By this time tomorrow, you will be the Queen of Camelot."

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><p><strong>*Goes to stock up on protective gear*<strong>


	13. Chapter 13

**Wah! I know this is a little late, but I'm proud to announce that this is my most reviewed story, and it's not even finished yet! Wowzas! Thank you so incredibly much guys!**

**Phew. A full-length chapter today. Yay! And, yes, there's a certain young Warlock in this one XD**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

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><p><strong>Chapter 13<strong>

It was dark. So dark. He could feel the evil creeping around him, the creatures' slimy touch lightly caressing his skin. They were trying to manipulate him, to bend him to their will. They had never truly admired him- he could see that now. No, they were nothing more than malevolent deceivers, their sole aim lying in finding his weak spot. They had been searching for an opportunity to exact their heinous plan for years now- all of them.

But they were fools. He was smarter than all of them. Stronger too. He knew that there was only one way they would stop coming after him- a way they hadn't believed he would achieve. A way he had once lost. But he had never given up hope, and now his method of beating them had returned to them- a bright light shining amongst the filth that surrounded him. She had returned, and now they would be deprived of the power they had always sought.

And then she came to him again, whispering those sweet words of release in to his ear. And then he understood. He needed to act more swiftly. They would launch their attack- they would try to destroy her. Unless she was given the power and authority to hunt them down. Just taking over the position of the ultimate traitor wouldn't be enough. No. He needed to elevate her higher- needed to provide her with his own position. Then they would see. Then they would know that he had won. And he would at last be free from the darkness which had haunted him all those years

She smiled when he told her his decision. That sweet, understanding smile which he had almost started to believe he had lost forever. And they both knew. They both knew that the depraved monsters who hunted him would be none the wiser. Until it was too late.

She would rule, and he would finally be victorious.

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><p>Merlin sat on the floor of his cell, studying the two men sitting opposite him and rubbing at his now bare chin contemplatively. It had only taken a quick spell to rid himself of the beard, but he had to admit that he almost missed the feel of it. Maybe, one day, he would grow another beard. A longer one. He had a strange feeling that people would like it...<p>

"Merlin?"

He shook his head, turning his eyes towards Arthur's.

"Sorry," he mumbled, "I was just thinking."

Arthur rolled his eyes, smiling slightly. "Well that's new- maybe some good has come out of all of this after all."

Merlin gave a short laugh, glad that the initial awkwardness he had felt was gone now. It was strange, just how cathartic an experience punching Arthur could be. Maybe he would have to try it more often.

He had asked Kennard to shut the cell door about half an hour ago now, as he listened to the two Knights' reports of all the changes in the kingdom over the past few months. Most of it he already knew- the strange anxiety flowing throughout the kingdom, and the King's increasing paranoia. The onslaught of attacks from four of the neighbouring kings, too. Now that was something he would have to look at another time- there was something strange going on there, but there were more important matters right now.

What he didn't know was quite how dramatic the recent behavioural changes had been. Evidently, the witch sisters had decided that now was the time to act. The problem now was, would he be able to find a way to stop them?

He rose to his feet, stretching as he did so.

"Well then, shall we go?"

Both knights looked a little confused, but stood up anyway.

"And where are we going?" Asked Arthur.

"Well, as much as I love the idea of staying in this cell for even a second longer," he said, pretending that he hadn't seen the Prince's flinch, "I need to be able to search for the vessels for the spells over Camelot. And to do that, I need to find someone who has actually been affected. Neither of you two really fits the bill."

Arthur nodded acceptingly at this, but Kennard stepped forward. Merlin hadn't heard the Knight speak much, but he seemed like a good sort. And there was that one other thing about him, too...

"There's something I've been meaning to ask you about that, actually," Kennard began.

"You want to know why the both of you aren't under the influence of the spells?"

Kennard nodded. "Well, I assumed that the Prince was not affected due to the protective spell you placed on him. But I have nothing of the sort- why am I not affected?"

Merlin smiled, pausing a little for dramatic effect. He rarely got to be dramatic in front of new people- it was quite a fun experience. He tilted his head to the side, speaking as though it were obvious.

"Because you're special."

"How?"

"You have a very clear mind- spells like these need to latch on to any uncertainties the individual holds. You don't have those doubts- you find it easy to come to a decision, and once you have done so, your opinion stays firm. Am I right?"

Arthur snorted. "You could say so. Kennard here is one of the smartest Knights Camelot has seen in a long time, yours truly excluded of course."

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "Some people never change." He faced Kennard again, ignoring Arthur's mock-offended expression. "And there's something else about you which boosts your ability to hold back the affect of the spells."

"What?"

"Magic."

Silver eyes widened in shock. "Magic? I don't have magic."

"Sure you do- you just never realized it. Don't worry- most people who develop powers never notice. Either that, or they deliberately turn a blind eye, too scared to acknowledge a fact which could have them killed. Trust me, you have quite a bit of power floating around in you. I can see it."

"You can?"

"I've always been able to use magic. Eventually, you learn to get an idea of how to sense a person's abilities. It's a talent I've honed during my time down here."

Both of the Knights in the room took a while to digest that particular piece of information, Arthur staring between Kennard and Merlin. Eventually, the Prince coughed awkwardly.

"Well, I guess we can just think about that later. Maybe we should just-"

"Wait."

Two sets of blue eyes snapped towards the young Knight, Arthur frozen mid-way to gesturing towards the door. Kennard shifted uncomfortably, still looking slightly pale. Still, Merlin had to admire him. It really couldn't be easy to find out that you were potentially a powerful sorcerer when you served as a Knight for a King who would kill you if he found out. Even if that King was currently insane. The dark-haired man seemed to be taking the news considerably better than most would.

"What is it, Kennard?" Arthur questioned.

The young Knight shifted again, then turned back to look at Merlin. "You said 'spells.' You said it repeatedly. Does that mean that there's more than one?"

Merlin beamed, glad that at least one of the men in the room had been observant enough to pick up on that particular point. Arthur had always been fairly useless when it came to things like that. Still, he wasn't about to tell them. Not just yet. So, instead, he headed out of the door, calling over his shoulder.

"Oh, it's just a little theory of mine. I'll tell you when I've figured it out. Now come on."

He didn't see the Prince shake his head disbelievingly before leaving, but he knew it was happening nonetheless. And when the Knights caught up to him, and Arthur shoved him lightly on the shoulder, he simply shoved back. Some things never change, and the fact that he and Arthur were best friends was one of those things.

"Right," he said, grinning broadly, "where would you suggest we head to find our first test subject?"

Arthur sped up slightly. "I know just the place."

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><p>A few minutes later found the three of them standing by the bars of another cell. Merlin looked in at the girl inside, completely shocked. Gwen was unrecognisable as her normal gentle self. She stood at the bars, yanking at them and snarling viciously at Arthur, her expression almost feral. Her eyes, though, they belayed the most terrifying change. They were completely blank, but at the same time filled with a rage the young Warlock knew would be absolutely killing his friend to see. He sent the young Prince a regretful look.<p>

"You two stay out here- guard the passage. I don't know how much concentration I'll need for this."

"What are you going to do to her?" Arthur asked, the worry evident in his voice. Merlin locked gazes with him, trying to calm the man down.

"I'm going to see if I can figure out the workings of the spell controlling her, and then try to break it. From what you've told me, the enchantment was gradual- it's probably why no-one really noticed. Now, I put up a block earlier, so that it's impossible for people to search for any of us using magic, but it doesn't guarantee against physical beings. It's possible that someone may walk through and find us. I need you to stop them if they do."

Arthur nodded, obviously feeling slightly strange, being ordered around by his old manservant. But Merlin knew there would be no problems- the two of them had held a deep respect for each other for years. And Arthur was not stupid enough to forget that Merlin was the only expert they had in this field.

"Alright," said the Prince. "But if you muck this up, I swear I will have you in the stocks for a year."

Merlin gave a mock bow. "As you wish, your royal Pratness."

Nimbly ducking the light-hearted blow Arthur aimed at his head, the young Warlock turned to the cell.

"_Swefn_." Gwen dropped to the floor, fast asleep, and Merlin turned his gaze to the cell's lock. "_Onl__ú__can_." The lock clicked, and Merlin dove inside the cell, kneeling down next to the sleeping girl. He placed his hand on her forehead, sending a gentle pulse in to her body to see if he could discover exactly what had triggered her change in behaviour. In the corner of his mind, he vaguely registered the fact that the two others had turned to face in opposite directions down the passageway, their swords at the ready in case anyone came.

It was strange, but the spell felt as though it had folded itself around Gwen's body as well as moving from the inside out. He frowned, trying to work this out. After a few minutes of concentrated contemplation, he thought he had figured out exactly what had happened to her. He breathed deeply, redirecting him magic to it's new purpose. In front of him, the young maidservant was momentarily engulfed in a brilliant golden light. It lifted her from the floor, where she hovered for a few seconds.

Merlin could feel the resistance the enemy's spell was putting up, and he sent out a single, almost undetectable, drop of magic to follow the trail back to it's source. Hopefully nobody would notice it, and he would be able to use that drop to find the connective power which bound the net of spells which held Camelot in it's grasp. He had no doubt now that there were multiple enchantments, although the thought brought no relief. All it would mean was that he would be hard-pressed to try and find a way to defeat each spell individually. Morgause had obviously put a lot of thought and effort in to this particular plan.

A slight movement from Gwen told him that it was safe to remove his hand. He cut off the flow of magic and sat back, watching as the young woman's eyes blinked open. She looked around blearily, her gaze eventually settling on the boy sitting at her side. He eyes widened, her mouth opening and closing several times in rapid succession. Merlin gave her one of his trademark grins, and spoke just two words.

"Welcome back."

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><p><strong>Yay! Gwen's better! And, yup, Kennard has some hidden skills. You see? This is why I love the dude. He never bores me.<strong>

**You probably already know this, but the two spells were '_sleep_' and '_unlock_.' Go figure...**

**Review? Pretty please with cherries on top?**


	14. Chapter 14

**Well, people seemed pretty happy that Gwen is back to normal now (myself included) XD I hope you enjoy this chapter too :D And thanks so much for all of the lovely reviews- please keep 'em rolling in!**

**Oh, a bit of warning: I'm travelling back up to my Uni house tomorrow (because I do actually have to start on revision at some point *sigh*), so it's quite possible that I won't have the time to complete the next chapter in time to post it before Saturday :'(**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

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><p><strong>Chapter 14<strong>

Gwen opened her eyes, confused, for a moment, that all she could see was a grey blur dotted with flecks of light. Then she realized blearily that she was staring at a grey stone ceiling, and that the light was coming from the window of her cell. _Wait, cell? What was she doing in a cell?_

She blinked again, and decided that she should probably start looking around. So she began scanning the room, her eyes roving first to the left. Nothing there. She looked to the right, and noticed a large smear of blue and red. Blinking hard, she concentrated on focusing on the strange object in front of her. _Was it a person? She couldn't tell._

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to clear her head, and when she opened them again she was able to see clearly. And, yes, the object in question was actually a person. But she must have banged her head harder than she thought (_had she even bumped her head? She couldn't remember_) because the person kneeling beside her couldn't possibly be there. It was impossible. Unless she was dreaming. It was, she reasoned, entirely possible that she was dreaming.

But then the person spoke, that goofy grin she remembered so well stretched across his face.

"Welcome back."

She couldn't hold back the smile which broke out on her own face. Even if this was a dream, it was a lovely one. And then the person continued speaking, and she could hardly believe that she was finally getting to speak to her friend again, even if only in dream form.

"How are you feeling? Better? Do you remember what happened?"

She smiled. "I'm fine, Merlin. Just a little groggy. And am I supposed to have forgotten something?"

Merlin let out a quick breath of laughter. "It's good to see you again, Gwen." He turned his head to face where she knew the bars of the cell must be, and called out a single word. "Arthur."

The name set off a pressure in Gwen's forehead, and as the young Prince in question rushed in to view, kneeling at her side and gently taking her hand in his, the pressure grew larger and larger. She had a horrible feeling that there _was _something that she had forgotten. Something which made her spine tingle horribly. But what?

Then, suddenly, the pain exploded behind her eyes, rushing through her brain. She noticed dimly that Arthur's expression turned into one of utter panic, and Merlin had to reassure him that everything was alright, but she was more focused on the agony going on inside her head.

Images flashed through her mind, moments she hadn't even known she had forgotten. A man's voice yelling than Morgana had returned. A feeling of terrifying calmness, forcing her in to a tiny corner of her own consciousness. The sudden knowledge that the Prince was missing. Her trek down to the dungeons. Her encounter with the Prince, and the fierce fury she had felt- the knowledge that that one man was all that stood between her mistress and her true place as Queen. The horrifying realization that... that...

She stared up at the pale-faced man stroking her face worriedly, blinking tears from her eyes. "I tried to kill you." She didn't care about the tremor in her voice, or the way her hands were shaking uncontrollably. She had tried to kill Arthur. She had tried to kill the one person she cared most about in the world.

Arthur looked as though he were attempting to force back the tears threatening to appear in his own eyes. He gave a minute shake of the head, placing a steady hand either side of her face, making it so that she couldn't try to look away.

"It wasn't your fault," he insisted. "You didn't know what you were doing. You were under a spell."

Another memory flashed through her mind. Arthur, infatuated with that horrible Lady Vivian, and not even remembering their relationship. She had been heartbroken at the time. But now she had done so much worse to him.

"How could I have hated you?"

The words stung him- she could see they did. Because not only had she forgotten her love for the man, forgotten all they had been through together, but she had seen him as no more than an obstacle. An enemy. She couldn't help but repeat her words, her voice quavering.

"How could I have hated you?"

Arthur pulled her up so that she was sitting, and drew her firmly into a tight embrace. She nestled her face into his chest, sobbing. And he allowed her. And, in just that one simple gesture of his affection, she knew that all was forgiven.

When they drew apart a minute or two later, and he had gently wiped the traces of tears from her cheeks, she looked around the small cell once more.

"Where's Merlin." _Had he even been there?_

"He left. He's just outside, keeping watch along with Kennard.

"Kennard's here?" She could recall the young Knight- the soft, far-off look in his eyes, and the way he shied away from attention. He was a good man. And then there was another image- of the silent apology she had seen in those eyes just before he had knocked her unconscious.

"Yes. He was unaffected by the enchantment's power. He helped me get to Merlin, so that we can see about sorting out this whole mess."

Gwen frowned, confused. "He wasn't affected?" _But the call had been impossible to resist..._

"It's a long story." His gaze softened. "Are you sure you're alright now?"

She took a deep breath, then nodded her head, smiling gently. "I'm fine."

Arthur smiled right back, planting a light kiss on her forehead. "I'm glad." He turned towards the bars of the cell. "Merlin! Kennard! You can come in now!"

The two men in question entered through the open door, both not quite meeting her eyes. Both looking slightly uncomfortable. She realized, with a jolt, that the young Knight must now know about hers and Arthur's feeling for each other. The thought gave her equal measures of relief and unease. One the one hand, she wouldn't have to hide it for now. But, on the other hand, could he be trusted to keep the relationship secret? She glanced over at Arthur for reassurance, and was met with a calm nod. Kennard could be trusted. She nodded back, then stood up, walking over to meet the young man.

"Sir Kennard, I wanted to thank you. If it weren't for you, I don't know what would have happened back then."

She saw a quick flicker of guilt flash across Kennard's eyes- he was not the type to take any pleasure from injuring a woman- but then he bowed his head gracefully. "It was nothing, my Lady."

"Oh, I'm not a Lady."

Kennard's eyes flicked momentarily to where Arthur stood, and then he smiled. "Nobility is measured from the heart. From what I have seen, you are most definitely a Lady."

Gwen stood for a moment, somewhat taken aback. Then a slight movement at the other side of the cell forced her to shift her attention that way. And there, over by the window (and most definitely _not_ a dream) stood Merlin. He smiled, and she rushed over to him, drawing him in to a quick hug, reassuring herself that he was actually solid as she did so. They stepped apart, and she took a moment to study her friend's face. Merlin seemed more mature somehow- more confident in himself. There was a definite hint of power in the way he stood, and in his eyes, which she had never noticed before. She guessed it was only obvious now because she knew it was there. Besides, Merlin had no reason to hide it any more. For one, the King already knew about his magic. And, more to the point, it wasn't like anyone would notice him right now. She had felt the cold, hard heart of the sinister magic which had held her in it's thrall. It blinded you to anything but the goal you were given. In this case, that was probably their biggest weapon. If everyone was searching for Arthur, then they wouldn't notice the Warlock until it was too late.

She beamed at him. "It's good to see you out and about, Merlin."

"Likewise. I'm glad you're feeling better."

Gwen laughed. "You don't have to be so modest, Merlin. I know it was you who freed me." She paused. "Thank you."

The reunion was interrupted by Kennard, who was by that point standing over by the bars of the cell.

"Someone's coming!"

The group was instantly on alert, the two Knights and the serving maid staring warily out towards the passageway. Arthur tugged Gwen behind him, and he and Kennard faced the door, forming a barrier between her and and the entrance.

Merlin, meanwhile, was looking around the room with a thoughtful expression on his face. Gwen knew that he was probably capable of freeing whoever was coming, but she also knew that it would be highly impractical. After all, he couldn't very well go around curing everyone individually, could he? They just didn't have enough time.

After a few moments, the young Warlock gave a determined nod. He gestured to Gwen, and they each tugged on one of the Knights' shoulders. The four of them moved in to the far corner of the cell, Merlin standing in front of them all. Gwen could sense Arthur figiting beside her. He really wasn't comfortable when he wasn't the one doing the protecting. She had to admit, though, that she could see the humour in the situation. Merlin was so lanky- not exactly what came to mind when someone mentioned the word 'powerful.' And she honestly couldn't imagine what he had in mind.

But then he started whispering a string of foreign words under his breath. In a language which, at first, she half believed she had never heard before. It took her a few moments to realize why it sounded so familiar- a picture on Merlin lying, dying, on a cot in Gaius' chambers springing unbidden to her mind. She shook it away, instead focusing on the present.

The young Warlock was still mumbling, getting faster and faster, when a group of four men came in to view- men she recognised as servants to various Lords. She waited with baited breath as one of the men froze outside the cell. She watched as he turned, ever so slowly, and stared through the bars.

Stared exactly towards where Arthur stood.

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><p><strong>There we are. A mini cliffhanger just for those of you who missed having them. Hey, even <em>I<em> missed having them!**

**There are a lot of fun bits (for me) coming up soon, so please stay tuned. My inner sadist (who IceCreamDoodle13 and I have christened Winston McFarley) is getting impatient, so I can assure you that I will be back to more evil cliffies soon *maniacal grin***


	15. Chapter 15

**:'( Only ten reviews so far for the last chapter. Where have you gone, my lovely people? Have I upset you in some way *Goes to hide under a desk* Enjoy the chapter...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

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><p><strong>Chapter 15<strong>

Merlin stood, listening to Gwen's thanks with a smile on his face. He had to admit, he had been glad to see that the young maid hadn't seemed to have changed too much. He had avoided scrying the people closest to him during his time in the dungeon, instead focusing his attention on scanning Camelot as a whole. As tempted as he had been, he had known that watching his friends would hurt him more than it would help him. It would have made it that much harder to stay away if he had seen them up close.

As such, he had been somewhat shocked to see the subtle changes in Arthur when the two met again- both in his physique and in the way he held himself. It was as though the Prince had lost a small portion of that over-the-top self-confidence he had always been brimming with. Merlin had been scared that everyone he knew would have changed in some way. So seeing that same old gentle smile on Gwen's face, he had felt more relieved than he would ever let on.

"Someone's coming!"

As Kennard's warning sounded in the small cell, Merlin tore his gaze away from Gwen's, staring over towards the bars. He had been hoping for a bit more time alone with his friends, but it seemed like he would have no such luck. The young Warlock allowed his gaze to flit around the cell, his mind working frantically to pick through the spells he knew to find one which would be of use.

A few moments later, and he thought he had one which would work.

Knowing that they had to remain as quiet as possible, he looked over to Gwen, indicating the far corner of the cell as he did so. She nodded, and the two of them guided the two Knights over to the place he had pointed.

Once there, Merlin took his position, hoping beyond all hope that the spell would work. He had practised it a little in his dungeon prison, but casting a spell over four people was somewhat more tricky than casting it on one. He took a few deep, calming breaths and then, concentrating hard, he began to whisper the words of a spell which should make them invisible as long as they remained within a set boundary.

It worked well at first- three of the men barely even glancing in to what appeared to be an empty cell. But, when the fourth man froze, Merlin knew instinctively that something was wrong. It took him a moment to work out that he couldn't sense any magic affecting the four men. They weren't being controlled.

Panicking slightly, he began to mutter faster- words which would hopefully shield the people with him should anything go wrong.

"What is it, Michael?" The tallest of the men asked, looking between the last man and the inside of the cell.

The man named Michael frowned. He was a smaller man- weedy, with sparse ginger hair and a sinister set to his lips. Merlin didn't recognise him. Were these people working with Morgana?

"I can sense some magic over there."

Three sets of eyes turned to where Michael was pointing. A third man- this one Blond, and of middling height- narrowed his eyes.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure, Tevin. Can't you?"

"I think I'm getting something," agreed the first man- the tall one- "but I can't be sure. We should check it out. Come on."

Merlin thought fast, cursing himself inwardly for not thinking to shield his magic's aura. He hadn't counted on encountering enemy wizards so soon- not when they needed to remain undiscovered for now. A second later, he switched to a new spell- one he had wanted to try for a long time now- and hoped beyond hope that it would work. He closed his eyes tightly, concentrating on surrounding his allies with the spell's power.

The next time he opened them, shaking his head to clear the rushing sound from his ears, was to the sight of his companions staring, bemused, around at Merlin's old bedroom. He let out a short, relieved whoop of laughter.

"Yes! That was the first time I've tried a transportation spell!"

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><p>Down in the cell, Michael approached the far corner with caution. There was definitely magic at work there- he was sure of it. His hand reached out slowly, only to sweep through empty air. Just at that moment, all traces of magic disappeared. He stood up straight again, looking around with confusion, until a slap around the back of his head sent him reeling.<p>

"Idiot," muttered Tevin. "I told you there was nothing there."

Michael held back a biting comment about how the older man had said no such thing, but instead made a mental note to never inform Tevin of one of his hunches again. That slap _hurt_. Still, as the four of them walked back out of the cell, Michael couldn't help but look back towards that corner, his eyes narrowing slightly. There had, undoubtedly, been some form of magic there. And it was a type of magic he had never felt before- something unique. Not to mention that, just before Michael himself had reached the corner, he had been sure it had flared slightly. And was it his imagination, or had the smallest of breezes- one so small he had barely even noticed it- originated from the location in question?

Whatever had happened, Michael resolved to find out what it was.

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><p>Arthur stared at Merlin as the man sank back on to his old bed. His eyes narrowed marginally.<p>

"I didn't know you could use transportation."

Merlin grinned elatedly. "Neither did I- especially not without the right jewel, or with so many people. But I guess there's a first time for everything, eh?"

"You mean we were just a test run? What would you have done if something had gone wrong?"

"Calm down, Arthur. We all got out alright. Isn't that what matters?"

"Merlin- that was downright reckless. You told me once that transportation was one of the trickiest forms of magic. What if someone had been hurt? Or left behind?" Merlin's smile faltered slightly, and Arthur lowered his tone. "Look- I know you may be feeling like you have to prove yourself or something, but there had to have been something else we could have done in that situation- something with less of a risk."

He felt Guinevere's hand on his arm, but gently pushed it off. A single look from him, and she moved away, nodding understandingly. This had to be done, and it had to be done now. He turned once again to the man in front of him.

"The Merlin of the past would never knowingly do something which would put any one of us in danger."

The excitement had completely faded from the young Warlock's face by now. Arthur continued, looking Merlin right in the eye.

"Could you have been sure that the spell was safe? Or was there another way we could have dealt with the situation?"

Merlin's eyes widened slightly, and he looked down at his hands, pausing for a few moments. Arthur knew what had happened to him- he had seen it before in the actions of rescued captives. They felt so elated when faced with freedom, that they were prone to taking risks they never would have taken before. It was human nature to push the boundaries after a period of time with such strong limitations. It wouldn't have been an issue, were it not for the fact that risk taking often led to the injury- or even death- of some party or another. The first time Sir Egon had gone on a mission after he had spent two months as a captive, the older man had launched an attack on a bandit's encampment before back-up arrived. His body had had to be taken back to Camelot later that day. Arthur was not about to see the same type of thing happen to Merlin. Especially not now.

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><p>Merlin allowed Arthur's words to sink in. Finding himself unable to look the Prince in the eye, he instead stared down at his hands. His mind wandered back to those brief moments in the cell when all that had gone through his mind was just how much he wanted to try the transportation spell, now that he had the opportunity and reason to do so. The truth was, numerous other spells had presented themselves at the time- spells to send the enemy to sleep, or to freeze time, or even to simply attract their attention to somewhere further away. Any of them would probably have been a wiser idea.<p>

But no. He had chosen to perform an incredibly complex spell, without any practice, and on a greater number of people than any beginner should ever challenge. His increase in power, and his thirst to dip in to it, had resulted in him putting his friend's lives at risk. Arthur was right. Any _number_ of things could have gone wrong. He may have known the words, but he was an _amateur_ in that field of magic.

He looked back up at Arthur.

"I'm sorry."

Something in his facial expression, or even his tone of voice, must have convinced Arthur that he was deadly serious, because the Prince's expression softened, and Merlin could have sworn that, just for a second, the young Blond actually looked _proud_.

In that moment, Merlin made a promise. A vow. That he would never abuse his power again. He would never knowingly endanger anybody he cared about. Never. And if he did, then he would separate himself from them for all eternity if necessary. Whatever it took.

The tension in the room lessened slightly, as the Warlock and his Prince grinned equally wide grins. They were alive. And they were together. Now nothing would stand in their way.

A bell rang out across the city.

Merlin listened gleefully. It had been over six months since he had last heard the bells of Camelot. What would it matter if he took just a few seconds to savour the sound now?

Arthur and Kennard, though, had an entirely different reaction. Kennard, who hadn't spoken a word since his earlier warning, looked over at Arthur, alarmed.

"That's... the noontime bell, isn't it?"

Merlin frowned. What was so strange about that? So Morgana still had people ringing the bells- what significance did that hold?

"What about it?"

Arthur looked over at him, his eyes slightly wider than normal. "We came to get you some time after the fourth bell in the afternoon. It should be evening by now." The Prince's eyes flicked towards the window. "It's the wrong time."

The two Knights and Gwen started looking around nervously. Merlin, meanwhile, felt his breathing begin to speed up, horror dawning as he realized that, in a moment of panic earlier, he had mispronounced one of the words of the spell. That, coupled with the difficulty of transporting multiple people, meant that...

"It was me." He looked around at the others, a hand rising shakily to his forehead as he worked out the repercussions of his mistake. "The spell- I got it slightly wrong. I slowed us down."

Gwen stepped forward, confused. "What do you mean?"

"I mucked up. It is noon. But it's noon of tomorrow- I made us skip almost a whole day!"

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><p><strong>Dun, dun, DUNNNN! Bet you didn't expect that :P<strong>

**Please review. Don't you want me to be happy? A happy author writes a better story *hint hint***

**(Cookies for reviewers. And if the record is broken, you get a golden wisp _and_ an hour to hang out with the character of your choice [even the dead ones])**


	16. Chapter 16

**Sorry guys! I knew what needed to go in this chapter, but nothing I tried seemed to work at first, which is why I didn't manage to get it up yesterday :'( Fortunately, a good sleep managed to sort things out in my head, so it's much better now. Yay!**

**Thanks a bunch for all the (14) reviews for the last chapter. I hope you continue enjoying this story right through to the end XD**

**Now for a bit of bad news. I'm going to try my best, but I've really had to get cracking on revision (first exam a week from today...), so I can't guarantee that I'll be able to get a chapter out every day. *sigh* Stupid exams. **

**Anyway, that's enough of that :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

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><p><strong>Chapter 16<strong>

Silence.

Five long, agonising seconds of silence.

Merlin sat, a hand against his forehead, still not quite believing what he had just done. He could feel everyone's eyes on him. Gwen emitted a strangled gasp, and this finally triggered Arthur to speak.

"What?" He breathed.

"How is that even possible?" Whispered Kennard.

Merlin dropped his hands in to his lap, and stared at them unseeingly.

"Transportation," he forced out, "is meant to be instantaneous. I mispronounced one of the words, and ended up delaying our arrival here."

"You mean to say," Kennard questioned, "that you made us _time-travel_ by _accident_?" The younger man stared at him, equal measures of shock and awe in his eyes. "Just how much power do you _have_?"

"Evidently more than he knows what to do with."

Merlin stared up at the Prince, not sure whether or not to be shocked at the coldness in his voice. Friends or no, right now it looked like the older man was inches away from punching the young Warlock with all his might. In fact, were it not for the fact that the two had only just been reunited, Merlin was fairly certain he'd be lying on the floor, unconscious, by now.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" Hissed Arthur. "If we've missed a day, then today is the day Morgana will be named heir to the throne! What if we don't have enough time to stop her?"

Merlin sank his head back in to his hands, unable to bear it. The last time he'd felt this guilty was when the Dragon had attacked Camelot. But, even then, he hadn't really known for sure what was going to happen. This time, it was most definitely all his fault. If they failed now, it was all because of him. That single moment of arrogance may well have been the difference between whether he failed his destiny or not. If this enchantment was completed, he may never be able to break it. Then Arthur would never become King. And Albion would fall.

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><p>Gwen, meanwhile, was staring round at the three boys, with disbelief written in her features, and increasing levels of anger shining in her eyes. After watching for a few seconds, she had finally had enough.<p>

"Will you all snap out of it?"

Three sets of eyes snapped towards her, each one widening.

"Arthur- you can stop behaving like that. And Merlin, raise your head. It was a mistake. Everybody makes them. Besides, there's no point in dwelling in the past. What matters now is that we focus on what to do next. If you'd all just stop staring off in to space, or glaring at each-other, we might still be able to figure a way _out_ of this mess!"

There was silence for a moment, until Gwen suddenly realized just what it was she'd just said. She lowered her eyes, slightly ashamed to feel the beginnings of a blush working it's way on to her cheeks, and feeling uncomfortable having them all look at her like they were.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I don't know what I was thinking. I just-"

"Guinevere."

Gwen looked up to find Arthur smiling at her, both he and Merlin (and even Kennard) looking somewhat guilty. Arthur stepped over to her, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"There's no need to apologize. You're right. This isn't the time, or the place. But, Merlin," he looked over at the man on the bed, his smile shifting to a teasing grin- one Gwen hadn't seen in over six months. "If, by some miracle, we _do_ manage to get through this, I swear, I'm going to have you in the stocks for a _year_."

Merlin quirked his eyebrows. "I'd like to see you try."

"Oh, are you suggesting I couldn't?"

"I know you couldn't. Unless I let you."

"Idiot."

"Clotpole."

Gwen smiled, willing to allow the two a brief moment of reconciliation. Unfortunately, Kennard chose that precise moment to interrupt.

"Um, sire? May I suggest we move from here?"

The two boys broke off from their banter, both turning towards Arthur's subordinate.

"Why? Surely we should spend this time formulating a plan of action."

"Well, ordinarily I would agree. But those men earli- yesterday. They seemed to be able to sense Merlin's magic. Plus, the fact that they didn't appear to be under the spell suggests that they are working with Morgana. It may be possible that there are others- and that one of them may have detected the moment we appeared here."

Arthur snapped in to action immediately.

"Right- Kennard and Merlin, I want you to follow me. I know a room no-one's been in for at least ten years. Guinevere-"

He turned, placing a hand on Gwen's cheek.

"-I want you to go home. Stay inside, and lock your doors. Alright?"

Gwen could feel her frustration rising. Just because she was a woman, it didn't mean that she was weak. She thought she had proven enough times in the past that she was more than capable of taking care of herself. So why did he still have to insist on trying to protect her so much. It was sweet, true, but less than sensible in a situation such as this one.

With that in mind, she shook her head, and removed his hand.

"No. I'm coming with you."

"Guinevere-"

"I know. You're just trying to keep me safe. But I'm still coming."

"I don't want you getting hurt."

"I will be in the presence of two Knights and an amazingly powerful Warlock. Where else will I be more safe?"

She gave Arthur a look which clearly brooked no argument, and stayed that way until he relaxed his shoulders slightly. As he turned away, she allowed herself a fleeting grin of triumph. It wasn't every day a serving girl won an argument with the Prince of Camelot.

Arthur left the room first, and Gwen could have sworn she heard Kennard whisper something to him on his way out.

"I can see why you like her."

Arthur paused momentarily, then continued on his way as though nothing had happened. And Kennard wasn't the only one to see the slight redness on the back of the Blond's neck

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><p>Twenty corridors, two secret passageways, a close call with a bucket, and one very angry dog later, and the four of them finally arrived in what had previously been a locked room. Merlin glared at the Prince, who looked innocently back.<p>

"What?"

"What!" Merlin exclaimed. "What do you mean '_what_?' That dog was _vicious_."

Arthur simply shrugged. "We needed a distraction."

"Yes- but that was no reason to suddenly push me in front of the thing! I could have just put it to sleep!"

"Well yes, but this way just seemed so much more fun."

Merlin drew himself up to his full height, proud of the inches this gave him over his friend. "You know, I have worked out how to turn people in to rabbits."

Arthur backed up a step. "You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, wouldn't I?"

They were interrupted by a small cough from somewhere behind Merlin. He turned his head to see Kennard looking slightly embarrassed, and Gwen with her eyes averted.

"What is it?"

"Umm..." The young Knight pointed towards the back of the Warlock's breeches. "I think you might want to sort that out before we continue. I'm sure you wouldn't want to save Camelot whilst looking so undignified."

Merlin looked down, muttering quietly about how he'd rescued the Kingdom hundreds of times whilst being undignified before. Then froze. Before the heat in his cheeks could rise to dangerous levels, he passed a hand over the seat of his breeches- where a hole the size of his fist had been torn.

"_Gestrice_."

When he removed his hand again, the hole had mended. But he found himself unable to meet Gwen's eyes. He decided to just ignore Arthur's sniggers.

He had a feeling he didn't want to see any dogs for a while.

Arthur clapped his hands together, drawing everyone's attention to him.

"Right then. Not that we've got that _hole_," he glanced pointedly at Merlin, "mess _behind_ us, maybe we should should try to work out how to _fix_ our main problem."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Prat."

Arthur simply sent a smug smirk his way, and gestured for everyone to follow him towards where four dusty old chairs stood around a table at the other end of the room. Just as the Prince was sitting down, Merlin whispered a few words. Suddenly all of the dust within a two metre radius created a cushion on The Blond's choice of chair. Arthur spent the next few moments engulfed in a cloud of dust (which magically managed not to land on any of the others).

Merlin whistled innocently, ignoring the Prince's glare. Gwen just sighed.

"Alright- that's enough games." She looked over at Merlin warningly, and he swiftly obliged, moving the aforementioned dust over to an empty corner. He'd seen Gwen in mothering mode before. And he didn't really want to be on the receiving end.

Arthur coughed again, settling comfortably down on to his chair. Serious now, he met Merlin's eyes.

"What have you managed to find out?"

"Give me a minute or two."

The young Warlock closed his eyes, steadying his breathing. He concentrated on picking up on the spark of magic he'd sent out yesterday. It had surrounded something- a person- but tendrils of power seemed to be running out of that person, spreading out in a web in every direction. Following one of the veins, he let his mind gather information. The web seemed to break off every which way, golden threads wrapping themselves around peoples' cores.

But that wasn't all. There were other colours in there too- different hues of magic, forming different networks. Each one with a specific purpose in mind. The problem here was just what those ones did.

Merlin blinked, opening his eyes. It took him a few seconds to get used to seeing the world with normal eyes, but when he had, he looked apprehensively around the table.

"Well?" Demanded Arthur. Although he quickly calmed down after a look from Gwen.

"I was right," started Merlin. "There are several spells. Breaking the enchantments is going to be even more difficult than we thought."

Kennard leaned forward. "Why?"

"Well each spell has a vessel. Largely people. But each one also seems to have secondary vessels- one on every person the spell is affecting. And, on top of that, each spell is aimed towards a different group of individuals."

"In what way?"

Merlin cast the silver-eyed man an appraising glance. He was definitely bright- he would make a great sorcerer with a bit of training.

"For example, there is a spell- the one I've managed to trace- covering the people of the lower town. This one seems to be the simplest. It began with unrest, and then gradually escalated. It takes less than you'd think for a Kingdom's people to turn against their ruler.

"And, from what I can make out, there are other, more complex, spells- ones I can't quite fully unravel yet- covering the Nobles, and other ones for the Knights. There even seems to be one used solely on one man- I'm guessing Uther."

Arthur leaned forward. "My father? Why does he need one just for him?"

"Well, I'm guessing that it was originally for both of you. There's an untethered string coming from that particular vessel- but I don't think the person has realized. None of the vessels are particularly strong magic-users." He paused sadly. "Probably for good reason too."

Kennard furrowed his brow. "Why?"

To the surprise of both Kennard and Gwen, it was Arthur who answered. He and Merlin shared a sorrowful look.

"Because one of the only ways to stop the effects of a spell with a living vessel... Is to kill the vessel itself."

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><p><strong>Tch. Morgana and Morgause are such meanies!<strong>

**So- things you liked? Things you disliked? Points I could improve on? All are welcome (and greatly appreciated). Especially as they should help cheer me up after hours of revision...**

**Oh, and _'gestrice'_ is one of the variations of _'mend.' _Just in case you wanted to know :D**


	17. Chapter 17

**Hi. Extremely short chapter today I'm afraid. There hasn't been a lot of free time this week for me to write, but I didn't want to keep you lovely people waiting any longer. Hopefully, I'll be able to start on the next chapter soon. It should be up around Tuesday (as I definitely want to do something fun the day after my first exam). Still, this may be brief, but here's hoping it doesn't disappoint. Here goes:**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

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><p><strong>Chapter 17<strong>

Morgana waited in one of the rooms adjacent to the throne room, resplendent in a glistening gown of soft purple silk. Her dark tresses had earlier been tied back into a gorgeous knot, and the elegant arrangement had been dotted with glittering pearls- a hairstyle, she believed, which was more than suitable for the soon-to-be Queen of a powerful Kingdom.

The regal attire, though, did nothing to hide the malicious glint in her eye, or the anticipatory smirk tilting the corners of her lips.

As time passed, Morgana found herself growing impatient. But, just when she had reached bursting point, she heard a faint whisper ring out from behind her.

"Sister."

She turned, a genuine smile now gracing her lips.

"Morgause. I'm glad you are here- I was afraid you may not have been able to make it."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"You faced no problems, I trust?"

The Blonde's expression turned smug. "None at all. I doubt anyone even remembered my past actions. The enchantments are working perfectly."

Morgana's mood soured slightly. "Not as perfectly as we would like."

Morgause was instantly alert. "Still no sign of the Prince?"

"None. And to make it worse," Morgana narrowed her eyes, "one of our men reported sensing a strange magic in one of the cells yesterday."

"What of it?"

"The same man detected a hint of the same magic less than an hour ago- in the Physician's chambers."

Morgause's expression hardened, her eyes darkening. "_His_ room?"

A nod was the only answer necessary.

There were a few moments of silence in the room, while both sisters considered the situation. Morgause paced slightly, before turning to meet her sister's eyes.

"Fear not, sister. If he were alive, we would have received word by now. The Emrys foretold in the prophecies would not leave the Kingdom- and especially the Prince- unprotected for six months were he alive. I have no doubt the informant was merely mistaken. Did any others report sensing anything?"

Morgana shook her head. "Nothing at all." She jutted her chin, her eyes glittering dangerously. "Besides, even if he were alive, it would make little difference. Apart from giving me intense pleasure at seeing his broken expression when he realizes that Camelot is in our hands now."

"Indeed. Now, come sister. We have-"

Somewhere above them, the bells of Camelot tolled, marking one hour past noon. Morgana felt a thrill of excitement run through her. It was finally time.

"A coronation to attend." Finished Morgause, her mouth twisting into a deadly sneer.

Together, the sisters strode from the room, and straight towards the throne.

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><p><strong>I know it's a lot to ask for so few words, but please review! I NEED ENERGY! (Darn revision)<strong>

**Hope you liked it XD**


	18. Chapter 18

**Well, it's one day later than I hoped to get this up by, and it's still slightly shorter than I would have liked... But it just ended in a nice spot, so I think I'm going to have to leave all of you lovely people with the following chapter as is :P**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

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><p><strong>Chapter 18<strong>

"_-nan apæ lóclóca_."

Arthur looked down at his hands, turning them over a few times, before raising his gaze to the young Warlock standing in front of him.

"There's no difference," he pointed out, somewhat confusedly.

Merlin shook his head slightly, and Arthur could just detect the beginnings of an eye-roll.

"There won't be as far as you're concerned," explained Merlin, "because you already know that you're there. This isn't a true invisibility spell- it just sort of prevents people from noticing you as long as you stay within ten feet of me. As long as none of us do anything to draw attention to ourselves, it should be that nobody even realizes that we're there."

To the Prince's right, Kennard was studying his own hands, his expression thoughtful. Then he, too, faced Merlin.

"What about those men? They were able to sense your magic before- what if they do again?"

"Earl- yesterday, I was rushed. I had to do things on the spur of the moment, so I couldn't cover every possibility. This time, I've blocked the spell's magical scent. Basically, I've made it so that it's unnoticeable to all but the strongest of magic-users. And even then, they would have to be extremely close. Unless we're in the same room as Morgause or that one man from before, everything will go to plan. As far as I can tell, they're the only ones near here who are strong enough."

Arthur felt that oh-so-familiar burst of anger rise up within him at the mention of Morgause's name. A short while ago, Merlin had scryed the city, using an old pot they had dug out from the corner of the room and some water from Kennard's flask. Together, the four of them had gathered round and watched as the Blonde-haired witch strode confidently in to the city, the peoples' only reaction to her presence lying in the form of vague, welcoming smiles. It made the Prince's blood boil to think of what poison she must have been feeding Morgana's mind for the past six months. The Morgana of the past would never have even dreamed of doing _anything_ like this.

But now wasn't the time to dwell on past misdemeanours. The present was much more important. And with Morgause in the city, it could only mean that the sisters' plan was nearing it's completion. Merlin, Arthur, Kennard and Guinevere would have to move fast if they wanted to counteract the enchantment in time. With that in mind, Arthur set his jaw, gathered all the confidence he could muster, and gestured towards the exit.

"Right then. Let's go and find our first vessel."

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><p>As the two sisters neared the throne, Morgause split off from Morgana, moving over to stand in a position where she could easily oversee the events. Morgana noted, with a thrill of satisfaction, that no-one even blinked an eye at the Blonde's presence. Not even that tyrant King. And no-one would. At least not until the sisters let them.<p>

Morgana herself made her way up on to the platform where the throne sat, and took her place at Uther's left side, studying the crowds of enchanted nobles contentedly. The only thing, in her opinion, which would have made the moment any better, would be if the Prince were also present. After all, she had a nice little surprise in store for the two royals, once the coronation was over with. It just wouldn't be quite as amusing without it being bestowed upon the pair. Still, it appeared she may just have to settle for the worse of the two. Arthur himself was merely a puppet- he was nothing without orders. No threat.

"It is time," began Uther, snapping Morgana out of her thoughts as he addressed the room, "for a new era to dawn in this Kingdom. For a new ruler to step out of the shadows, and take her true place upon the throne. This new ruler has, after more than half a year, finally found her way back to her home." The elder man turned, a proud smile on his face even while his eyes were blank, and took his ward's in his before continuing. "In light of Morgana's return to Camelot, I, Uther Pendragon, do relinquish my position as this Kingdom's King!"

With a mental order from Morgana, a light scattering of applause echoed around the chamber. She could see Morgause at the front of the crowd, and could tell from the gleam in the Blonde's eyes that she was just as eager for the ceremony to be completed as Morgana herself. This was what they had been planning for all this time. And it was finally coming in to fruition.

The people turned as one as Geoffrey of Monmouth stepped forward from his position somewhere to the left of where Morgana stood. Taking the crown from the now former King's head, he gestured for Morgana to sit. She did so, her stunning purple dress flowing gracefully in the process, and remained there, proudly, as the old man placed a somewhat more elegant royal headpiece placed on her own head.

Just before he took his hands away, Morgana had Geoffrey say the words which would make the entire ceremony official.

"By the power vested in me, I Crown thee, Morgana le Fay-"

"Pendragon."

Morgana snapped around, both her and her sister staring at the former King. The rest of the people remained frozen in place, showing no reaction in the slightest bar a sudden and complete lack of movement.

"What did you just say?"

Uther smiled giddily, his eyes unfocused. "It should be Pendragon. You are, after all, my daughter."

Morgana herself froze then, and her breaths became hitched. _What had he just said?_

Seeing her sister's distress, it was Morgause who stepped forward, the air around her crackling with magical energy.

"Morgana is the daughter of Vivienne and Gorlois. What do you mean by 'Pendragon?' Explain."

"Morgana is the child of Vivienne and myself. She is my daughter."

Morgana could feel herself shaking, her breaths coming in short, sharp bursts. She knew that, in the state he was in, it would be impossible for Uther to lie to her. Which meant that this was the truth.

"All this time," she breathed, "I was..."

She could feel herself losing her focus, her vision blurring, her grip on reality weakening. _What did this mean?_

But then her sister was there, her caring hands steadying Morgana's shaking form.

"Sister. Sister."

Emerald eyes locked on to brown, and Morgana found herself latching on to Morgause's every word. If there was one thing she could be certain of right now, it was that her sister could be trusted.

"Sister, you need to stay strong. We can discuss this later. Right now, what is important is that you focus on the task at hand. Uther may have betrayed you, but just think of how you will soon be repaying him."

Calming herself slightly, Morgana nodded, giving the other woman a brief nod. She didn't think she was capable of talking just yet.

The elder woman moved back to her former position, and Morgana allowed the ceremony to continue on from before. There was just one difference.

"I crown thee, Morgana Pendragon, Queen of Camelot."

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><p><strong>He he. So Merlin and gang are off to find a vessel, and Morgana is now Queen. Plus, there seems to be some sort of 'surprise' hanging in the air for dear ol' Uther. What'll it be? You'll have to wait to find out :P<strong>

**(Oh, the end of the spell was '_none can see._')**

**I'm not entirely sure when I'll be able to get the next chapter done by, as this month is absolutely chock-a-block with exams now. I'll try to get one (or more) done each week, but I'm afraid I can make no promises :'(**

**Please review! Or I'll have to revert to being extremely mean to Merlin. And I don't want to do that...**


	19. Chapter 19

**Phew! It's been so long! I'm back, my lovely readers! I only have one more exam left (next Wednesday), so I should be able to update a couple of times before then. Yay! However, you'll be pleased to hear...well, read... that, thanks to the time off from writing, this story has evolved dramatically in my head. This is something I'm extremely proud of, as the ending I'd had in mind previously was beginning to feel distinctly unfinished. So yeah, from now on, expect a whole bunch of stuff to be kicking off. Winston McFarley is going to have a field day.**

**Thank you so much to all of you who reviewed. I recently realized that this is now officially my longest story. It's all thanks to you lot that I've kept my enthusiasm so high, so I offer all of you who have ever reviewed one cookie of your choosing per review (and an extra one for those who have reviewed every chapter). BRAVO YOU!**

**Anyway, enough of my ramblings. Here we go:**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

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><p><strong>Chapter 19<strong>

Merlin had to hold back the urge to roll his eyes for the fourth time in as many minutes.

"I've already told you, Arthur- It's not necessary. _Nobody_ is going to notice us. The twenty-three people we passed on the way here have proven that."

"Still- it's better to be safe than sorry."

"Arthur- there is absolutely _no _reason for us to need to walk around on the ceiling. You just want to know if I could do it."

"And could you?"

"I think so, yes."

"Then prove it."

The young Warlock's head dropped on to his chest, an exasperated sigh escaping his lips in the process. They had been waiting in a small, cramped room in the servants' quarters for the past ten or so minutes, ever since Merlin had sensed what appeared to be one of the vessels heading in their direction. Their (utterly pointless) conversation had been going on for five long minutes by this point in time, and the Prince didn't seem to be showing any signs of backing down. It may have been likely that the Blonde-haired man was simply trying to find some form of distraction from the eeriness of the Castle in it's current state. But Merlin figured it was just an annoyance tactic.

'_Besides_,' Merlin reasoned, _'does he have to choose such a ridiculous topic?' _

A giggle from behind them stopped both men in their tracks, and they turned around to find Gwen with a hand over her mouth, her eyes bright with laughter.

"Guinevere? What is it?"

"Is everything alright, Gwen?"

The two men shared a confused look when she didn't answer, but this only served to make the young maidservant laugh harder. Kennard, meanwhile, simply stood stock-still over by the door, keeping an ear out for anyone heading their way. The only indication that he found even mild amusement in the room's proceedings lay in the fact that he had raised a single eyebrow by a millimetre or two.

Merlin stepped forward at the same time as Arthur, and this time the two of them spoke in unison.

"What is it?" _Had she gone hysterical from stress or something?_

Gwen wiped a tear from her eye, before gesturing shakily at the two of them.

"I'm sorry," she began, "it's just that...that you two have reversed!"

"Reversed?" Questioned Merlin. "What do you mean?"

"Well, ordinarily," Gwen laughed, "Arthur would be the one to take the lead, and Merlin would be annoying him by blabbering on about something pointless. This time it's the other way round."

The young Warlock was just opening his mouth to indignantly insist that he had never blabbered pointlessly in his life, when a faint tingle in the air drew his attention towards the doorway.

"They've entered the net."

Everyone was on alert in moments, hastening to their designated positions- Arthur and Kennard by the door, Merlin in the centre of the room, and Gwen over by the small bed in the corner. The plan had been discussed before they had started their search- once Merlin found any trace of a vessel in the area, they would lie in wait while he set up a detection net surrounding the vicinity. This would alert them to the precise movements of the individual once they had entered the net, making it a simple task for them to capture the person in question. And that was the easy part- they still had yet to think of a way to safely break the spell's power. Merlin could only conclude that he needed to study at least one of the vessels directly to work out a method of doing so. He didn't want to kill anyone unless no other option was left open to them.

As the vessel moved, so that they were almost directly outside of the room, Merlin's eyes widened slightly with horrified realization.

"No. Please no," he whispered under his breath. "Please let me be wrong."

He held one hand so that it pointed shakily towards the door.

"_Swefe nu._"

A small thump outside alerted Arthur to his success, and the Prince tugged open the door, ready for Kennard to rush out and pull their sleeping victim inside.

Kennard froze in the doorway for a moment, until Arthur hissed at him to hurry up. It was only when the dark-haired Knight carried the small form in to the room that the others saw the reason for the young Knight's hesitation, and that Merlin allowed himself to accept what he had previously surmised. It was no surprise the magic he had sensed was so untrained- the girl in Kennard's arms couldn't have been more than seven years old.

* * *

><p>Morgana sat proudly in her new throne, watching with disdainful eyes as a blank-faced Uther allowed himself to be placed in the manacles she had earlier had attached to the wall over by the door. Her greatest living enemy was under her control.<p>

And she should have been relishing in that fact.

But the truth was that, although she enjoyed the domination she currently held over Uther, there was something bothering her. A large part of her didn't want Uther to be merely another pawn. She wanted him to suffer. To know exactly who she was, and what he had put her through over the years. She wanted him to know just how much she loathed him, and to truly feel her wrath.

But he would never realize, or feel, the true extent of her emotions if he remained a mere puppet.

She turned to the Blonde woman who stood at her side.

"Morgause?"

"What is it, sister? Is there something you find unsatisfactory?"

The young seeress' eyes glinted maliciously. "I have a request."

Kennard stared down at the minuscule form he had just set down on the bed. _'O__ne of the only ways to stop the effects of a spell with a living vessel... Is to kill the vessel itself.'_ That was what the Prince had said. Did that mean that, to save the Kingdom, they may end up having to kill the little girl sleeping soundly before them? And possibly others like her? Kennard had killed before, in battle, but only grown men- warriors. He didn't think he had it in him to willingly watch any child die- especially by his own hands.

The young Knight looked over at Merlin. The older man was entirely different to him. Forget wondering if he was capable of such a thing- Kennard could tell that killing the child had never even crossed his mind, from the moment he had laid eyes on the girl. The Warlock didn't even think of it as something that would be done. Instead, as soon as the child had been settled, Merlin's expression had shifted to one of pure, righteous anger. He had been staring towards one spot of the ceiling ever since. Probably trying furiously to think of another way. His pure determination was something the silver-eyed Knight was sure he would grow to greatly admire in the man.

"I can't believe she would do this."

Kennard moved his face towards the young maidservant in the room- the source of the declaration. She had finally torn her eyes from the child, and had instead locked gazes with the Prince, utter grief in her eyes.

"I can't believe," she continued, "that Morgana would actually put a child in this position. Has she really changed that much?"

"I suppose we have to face it," answered Arthur, straightening to his full height. "The Morgana we knew would never do something like this. If it's reached this stage, I doubt we can ever bring her back."

The room was silent for a while. For the first time, Kennard felt somewhat disconnected from the others. Unlike them, he had not personally known the Lady Morgana. He would never know what she had been like in the past. But if the expressions of the others in the room were anything to go by, she had been a wonderful person. And now she had changed into the type of person who would sacrifice a child's life as unimportant. For them to have to make the decision to think of her as an enemy must be tearing them apart. He could sense it in the slight tremor in the Prince's voice. But, at the same time, they all knew that it was something that had to be done. And Kennard had no doubt whatsoever that his three companions were more than strong enough to see their venture through to the end, and to move past any regrets they might hold regarding Morgana.

After several moments in which nobody moved, Merlin's eyes narrowed. Kennard watched as the Warlock tore his gaze from the ceiling, then looked around at each person in the room, his eyes lingering on Arthur, before he finally moved over to the bed.

"I'm going to wake her up."

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><p>Michael hovered in the catacombs, admiring the rune he had just spent half an hour setting into the stone with satisfaction. <em>'Soon,'<em> he thought, _'soon everything will be in place. Just one more, and it will finally be complete.'_

A small smirk began to tug at the corner of his lips as he set out on his journey towards the cavernous dungeon he had chosen as the setting for the final rune. If his estimations were correct, the cave in question was where the great Dragon had been imprisoned. In his opinion, that particular fact fit what he was doing perfectly. What better setting could there be to give a group of people the freedom to use their magic the way they themselves desired? It was almost poetic really.

He had just exited the catacombs when Morgause's voice echoed in his mind.

_'Michael. Come to the throne room. You're needed.'_

He paused in his movements, his face turning automatically towards the source of the voice. _'Very well, my Lady. I shall head there directly.'_

_'Transport yourself. The Queen is becoming impatient."_

_'Yes, my Lady.'_

The connection cut off, and Michael let out a barely audible sigh. How did the two sisters expect him to get any work done if they kept summoning him so often? Sometimes he wished he hadn't gained quite so much favour in their eyes.

Taking hold of the amulet he kept around his neck, he closed his eyes, focusing on the well of power stored within his body.

"_Bedyrne ic! __Ás__týre ic __þanonweard."_

A swirl of black smoke passed his eyes, engulfing his entire body, and the roar of wind echoed in his ears. Moments later, Michael stood in the throne room, shaking his head to rid his ears of the slight ringing sound which lingered there. Catching sight of Morgause and the newly-crowned Queen, he bowed his head.

"My Ladies."

Morgause acknowledged his presence, then beckoned to someone behind him. Before Michael could turn his head to see who it was, a young boy with a mop of sandy hair and a soulful expression had been led in to view by one of the enchanted guards. Michael recognised him as Eldon- the child who had been made the Vessel for the spell meant for Camelot's royalty. This was the first time Michael had seen him since the initial magic had been cast, over five months previously.

"My sister has asked that the spell contained in this child be removed," continued Morgause. "I will require your assistance."

"If it is not too presumptuous of me, my Lady, may I ask why? We have yet to find the Prince- releasing him from the spell this early may prove dangerous."

Morgause shook her head in a way that suggested she had expected, as he had known she would, for that very question to be asked. "We do not believe that the spell was effective against the Prince. And there is no need for Uther to remain enchanted any longer. Now, take your position."

With the formalities over with, Michael took his place, kneeling across from the young boy. Closing his eyes, he concentrated to such a degree that he blocked out all sense of anything bar his magic. It was probably this ability, together with his level of power, which had been the reason for Morgause to choose him for this role. And, although he couldn't feel it amidst the sea of nothingness in which he now swam, he knew that the witch's finger would be resting upon the nape of his neck, and that in that moment she would be whispering a spell he would never be able to learn. The only thing he knew for certain was that one of the strings of power leading out from him was gradually breaking, the severed bond gradually receding back in to his body. It was only when the power had settled completely that he brought himself out of his meditation, blinking his eyes blearily. He looked at the boy in front of him- the boy to whom he was no longer linked- for just a few moments, before turning his face back to that of the Blonde-haired woman who had moved back to stand beside her sister's throne once again.

"Will that be all, my Lady? Or would you like me to take the boy anywhere?"

A flash of some indefinable emotion flickered in the witch's eyes, and for a moment Michael thought she would actually say yes. However...

"No. The boy is of no use any more. I will have him removed to somewhere where where his skills can be put to use." She gazed towards the enchanted guard, and a moment later he had stepped forward, taken Eldon's arm, and led the boy away. Michael never took his eyes off of Morgause until he heard a man's demanding voice speaking from somewhere behind him.

"What is going on here?" A pause, and then just one more strangled word. "Morgana?"

The ginger-haired sorcerer stood as Morgana rose from her throne, turning as she passed him.

"Father. I'm _so_ glad you're awake. You're just in time for the fun to begin."

Michael's eyes widened. He had not been informed of this. He had not even sensed the man's presence. But there was no denying it- there, at the end of the hall, the former King was chained to the wall, now- thanks to Michael- free of the enchantment which had held him in it's grasp. He had the bemused look of one who had just woken from a long dream, and was not entirely sure that what they were seeing was real.

However, that look was about to change, as the moment Morgana reached her father, she reached out a single finger towards her old guardian's chest. A finger on which Michael sensed a single malevolent spell had been ingrained.

A moment later, a scream of unimaginable pain splintered through the air.

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><p><strong>Eep! So many goings on! <strong>

**Review? Please? Or are you just going to make me suffer for keeping you waiting for so long? Because that's just mean *pouts***

**(p.s. I really don't like the new layout when you've signed in. Not at all. Any of it. It makes me so sad.)**


	20. Chapter 20

**Alrighty. First off, thanks so much to those of you who reviewed last chapter. I know very well just how busy this time of year is for so many of us, so thanks a lot for taking the time to review this story, or even just to read it :D**

**Okay, I'm not sure if you noticed, but I've changed this story to 'T' level. I think the reasons will begin to become clear part way through this chapter...**

**Well, enjoy. Or cringe. Either is fine with me (although Winston prefers the cringing).**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin *sigh***

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><p><strong>Chapter 20<strong>

It was always so dark. Only faint movements of smoke could be even faintly distinguished amongst the darkness- that, and the sounds the terrors made as they crept ever closer- squelching, squishing noises, as though they were wading through piles of rotting bodies. His enemies had joined forces, and they were making their way closer- trying to find him. To force him into their pit of hellish nightmares.

There was only one thing which held the creatures away- her voice. It rang out in such a way that it was more beautiful a sound than even the most melodious of bells. She was, in this dark and terrifying world, the only glimmer of light. An angel amongst the demons.

And so he listened to her voice, clinging to it in desperate hope. And every time he followed the suggestions she made, he knew that she was drawing him ever closer to his release from this place. And so he couldn't lie to her. Even when he told her the secret he'd sworn never to tell, he had felt no remorse. She deserved to know everything. And now she was Queen, as she was born to be, and soon she would be able to free him from the endless torture of the unseen beings. Now she had that power.

A light. A connection. And increasing excitement as he sensed the darkness beginning to roll away.

He was coming back to life.

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><p>The first thing Uther noticed when his world began to clear was the sound of two sets of footsteps passing by him, and then a large, heavy set of doors closing. A vague glance around with groggy vision revealed to him an image of empty spaces and columns. The throne room, apparently, if his reasoning was correct. But more important than his location was the fact that, judging by the cold sting of iron around his wrists, he seemed to be manacled to something. Confused, he leant backwards, his head hitting against solid stone. He was chained to the wall then.<p>

_'Just what is happening here?'_

He raised a heavy head, trying to shake away the nausea he felt before it overpowered him. Uther had had it ingrained in him since childhood to never show weakness. He was not about to vomit in his own throne room.

Blinking hard, he just about managed to make out three figures standing towards the other end of the room. One appeared to be a small, ginger-haired man. _Did he know anyone with such a stature?_ The second figure was slightly taller than the man, held themselves with a proud and elegant grace, and had long, flowing Blonde hair. _A woman? No man he knew had hair like that._

He blinked again, knowing that the ability to identify the invaders- as he knew they must be- would be crucial if he ever planned to launch a counter-attack. And he only had a few moments to fulfil his task- he had already wasted a few seconds too long just feeling sick. _Maybe speaking would help him to recover?_

Focusing in the direction of the three invaders, he had to go through two struggled attempts before he finally managed to ask even a single question.

"What is going on here?"

Finally his vision cleared, and the Blonde-haired woman came in to focus as Morgause- the witch who had stolen Morgana away from...

His eyes landed on the central figure. The one sitting on his throne.

"Morgana?"

Uther barely even noticed as his ward rose from her- no, _his_ seat. He didn't register the words she spoke. Instead, a sudden rush of memories forced their way in to his mind, and it was all he could do not to cry out. Flashes of arguments with the council, and unreasonable fights with Arthur. The gradual feeling of having his mind invaded- controlled- and being unable to stop it, unsure whether it was even happening or not. Crowning Morgana as Queen. Her ordering him in to the manacles.

His brain had just settled on an unthinkable, and yet undeniable, notion- that Morgana had allied herself with Morgause (_had the two discovered their sisterhood?_)- when his pale-skinned ward finally stopped directly before where he stood. He had just about enough time to register the sadistic hunger in her eyes before a single one of her fingers found it's way to his chest.

In that moment, it was as though the world had exploded. A million needles dug their way into the entire surface of his body, leaving not a single spot untouched. Intense, white-hot flames tore at portions of his inside, while ice ripped at the rest- the two opposites working in harmony, twin ribbons of red and white burning their way towards his very soul.

The pain was over almost before it had began, although it had seemed like an eternity. It wasn't until he had started to regain his breath that Uther realized that the almost inhuman noise he had been hearing in the distance had been his own scream.

Panting hard, he lifted his head once again, hoping beyond all hope that he had been wrong- that it was not actually Morgana whom he would find standing in front of him, but simply some witch who bore a mild resemblance.

But his hopes were in vain.

Ruby-red lips curled into a malicious grin. Emerald eyes widened with fascinated glee. In that single moment, the young lady Uther had raised since childhood looked like little more than a madwoman. A figure of nightmares, relishing in his pain; feeding from his torment.

"Did you enjoy that?"

Morgana's voice sounded so joyful that he couldn't bring himself to answer. He just stared in sickening anticipation as her finger stretched once more towards his chest, her head tilting slightly to the side.

"No answer? Then let me give you another sample, _father_."

The finger had fallen almost before he even heard the final word, and Uther's world was once again overwhelmed with agony.

* * *

><p>Merlin had been staring at the ceiling, trying to find out whether any of their foes had realized that the child had lost consciousness, when he had felt it. A shift in one of the spells.<p>

One of them had been removed.

As fast as he could, the young Warlock focused his attention on the location it had happened. Maybe, just maybe, if he wasn't too late, he could sense something which would give him an idea on a way to break the spells himself.

Unfortunately, the fact that he had had to remain undetected while doing so meant that narrowing down the breadth of his senses' enveloped area took him just a fraction too long. By the time he was fully focused on the throne room alone, the most he could make out was that the enchantment which had been removed was the one over Uther.

He was just about to withdraw when he felt a different spell activate. One which reeked of a terrifying level of malice and hatred.

A torture spell. And an incredibly effective one at that.

Pulling away before Morgause or anyone else would have the chance to sense him, Merlin withdrew back in to his own body. He spent a few moments studying each person in the room, his gaze finally settling on Arthur. And it was in those few short moments that Merlin made yet another of the hardest decisions he had ever had to make. He chose not tell Arthur about his father's predicament. At least not yet. There was too much at stake- they couldn't risk for the Prince to go running off blindly to rescue the King- he may well end up destroying all hope of their ever regaining Camelot.

Taking a deep breath, and offering both Arthur and Uther a silent apology, the young Warlock made his way over to where the child lay, still sleeping.

"I'm going to wake her up. Everyone stand back a bit."

Kneeling next to the bed, Merlin was just about to cast the necessary spell, when the memory of the torture spell sprung back in to his mind. Merlin was no stranger to pain- both physical and emotional- but the aura of the hex being used on Uther right at that very moment spoke of pain he could never even begin to fathom. And if he was no longer enchanted...

Unable to bear it any longer, but knowing that he still had to keep the King's situation a secret from the others for now, Merlin did the only thing he could. Closing his eyes, he focused on forming the words of a spell in his mind. It would not be as effective as if he had spoken out loud, but it would be enough for now- just as a way to ease Uther's suffering, even if only by a little bit.

As soon as the spell had been sent, he turned his attention once more to the the girl lying on the bed, placing a single hand on her forehead.

"_Á__wæcne._"

Within moments, a pair of hazel eyes were staring up at him. Merlin grinned.

"Hi there. My name's Merlin. What's yours?"

If any of the rooms' occupants had been asked what reaction they would have expected the girl to have to Merlin's question, none of them would have guessed the truth. Wide-eyed, she back-wheeled across the bed as fast as she seemingly could, falling off of the other side in the process. In the second or two it took for everyone to rush over to check on her, she had curled herself into a ball in the corner, her hands over her ears, and her eyes squeezed shut.

For a few moments, everyone just stood around, staring awkwardly at each-other. Arthur seemed especially nervous about the situation. He had never been around children much, and had never been one for emotion anyway. Merlin knew for a fact that the Prince would never know how to deal with a child in distress. The most he was usually capable of was fighting away whatever had scared the child in question. Which, in this case, appeared to be them.

About half a minute passed before Gwen took it upon herself to step forward. The boys stood by and watched as she knelt next to the girl, placing a gentle hand on the child's upper arm.

"It's alright. We won't hurt you. You can trust us." There was silence for a few moments. "My name is Gwen. Would you be able to tell me yours?" Again, silence. The girl didn't even move from her position.

And so it went on. For five minutes, Gwen sat in the corner with the girl, trying to coax her into relaxing. Meanwhile, the three boys stood in another corner of the room, staying as silent as they could. Eventually, though, it appeared that Gwen gave up on talking, instead choosing to simply sit beside the child, a hand resting on her shoulder for comfort.

While they were waiting, Merlin's mind was whirring. He had, through the years, made it a habit of his to try to imagine the situations of the people he met. It helped him to sympathise with their situations. So he imagined the girl's life. He imagined what it would feel like to have such a spell placed inside of him, at a point in time when his own powers were only just starting to develop. He imagined being brought to a strange city. He imagined the people around him turning to mesmerised puppets before his very eyes. Was the girl alone? Or with her parents? Had anyone actually explained the situation to her at all? Or was she all by herself, wandering around a castle where up until just the previous day she would have been executed for just being who she was?

His head snapped up. "That's it."

Although his whisper seemed to surprise both Arthur and Kennard, neither of the two made a move to stop him as he walked back across the room one more, shaking off Gwen's inquiring look as he settled himself opposite from the girl. He opened his water-skin and held out one hand before him, palm facing upward. When he talked, he made sure to speak gently, taking extra care so as not to make her any more scared than she already was.

"_Á__hierdan æledfýr ond æg fríce._"

As he had hoped, the girl's eyes opened a crack at the sound of words from the ancient language. And as she watched the water from the water-skin weaving in and out of a dancing conjured flame, she gradually opened them more. As the two elements danced higher and higher, until they were floating in a ring above their heads, she slowly lowered her hands, her eyes flickering between Merlin and his magical display with curiosity.

Once he was sure he had her undivided attention, Merlin slowly lowered the water back into the skin, extinguishing the flame in the process.

"You see," he began, smiling gently, "none of us are going to hurt you. We just want to find out what happened to our friends here in Camelot. We were hoping that you would be able to help us."

Seconds passed, and nobody dared to make a sound as the girl studied each one of them in turn, her eyes always turning back to Merlin. Finally, she let out a small smile, and gave a barely perceptible nod.

A sigh of relief filled the room, and Gwen pulled the girl into a firm yet gentle hug. Merlin levelled his eyes with the child's, grinning whole-heartedly. And he was extremely glad to see her grinning just as widely back at him.

"Thank you," he beamed. "Now, let me start again. I'm Merlin. And it's very nice to meet you. Will you tell us your name?"

A strange flicker of emotion flashed across the girl's voice- a sort of frustration one rarely saw in one so young. Ever so slowly, she extricated herself from Gwen's grip and raised a finger so that it pointed to her throat, then shook her head sadly.

"What is it? Your throat?" A nod. Merlin lifted his own finger to follow her own gesture. "Right there?" Another nod. "I don't sense anything magical there. What is it?"

Sitting backward, the girl brought one hand up to her lips, then opened her mouth and moved the hand outwards. Then she made her cross with her arms, shaking her head vigorously, before finally pointing at her throat once more.

After a second or two of silence, Kennard stepped forwards, his voice soft as he looked down at the child. "Are you saying that you can't speak? Is that it?"

The girl looked up at Kennard, her eyes sad. And nodded once more.

* * *

><p><strong>Okay. Spells:<strong>

**_Á__wæcne - Awaken_**

**_Á__hierdan æledfýr ond æg fríce - Make fire and water dance_**

**Hope that helped.**

**So... a lot going on in this chapter. And to those of you who like Uther, please don't kill me. I'm feeling miserable enough about torturing him as it is :'( **

**By the way, what did you think of my little twist? I admit, I'm kind of looking forward to writing about a character who can't speak. It's an interesting challenge. And one for which I hope the results prove satisfying. **

**Not sure when the next chapter will be up. Unfortunately, I'll probably have to get down to studying tomorrow, so I may not be able to write any more until Thursday. Still, we'll see how it goes. *Sigh* Stupid exam.**


	21. Chapter 21

***Does a Dogeza***

**I am soooooooooo sorry! I know it's been forever since I updated, and I have about a million reasons/excuses, but I'm just too excited to list them all right now. Why, you ask?**

**I JUST WATCHED THE NEW EPISODE OF MERLIN! I have not stopped screaming for the last ten minutes. And am going to watch it again as soon as I've finished posting this and a one-shot I wrote the other day.**

**MERLIN ROCKS! THAT WAS ABSOLUTELY FANTASTIC! !**

**Anyway, I'll stop rambling. I have an episode to watch. Again.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. I'm not awesome enough to... yet.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 21<strong>

Michael stared, wide-eyed, as Uther jerked his body violently from side to side. The former King's face was contorted into a mask of agony, his eyes rolling wildly in their sockets, and the screams tearing themselves from his throat and echoing around the cavernous chamber in which they stood were enough to cause the red-haired sorcerer watching it happen to shudder right down to his very core.

And, as if the screams weren't enough, the scene was made all the more horrendous by the sight of Morgana's chilling smile and the cold joy radiating from her eyes. The picture of her former guardian's agony wasn't dampening her spirits in the slightest. In fact, she seemed to have discarded any and all affection she had once held for the man. If Michael had to describe it, he would say that she was _relishing_ Uther's reaction to her torture.

It was to such a degree that, had any normal person been watching, they would have turned and run from the room in terror. But Michael wasn't an ordinary person. He had a task to accomplish, and he had the power to carry it out. And while he couldn't say that he wasn't affected by what he was witnessing, he knew that it was necessary for him to go through with it. If he wanted to reach his goal, there were things which needed to be sacrificed.

But, even so, he couldn't help but let the tiniest of sighs escape his lips when the torture stopped briefly. It was just his bad luck that Morgause happened to hear. Brown eyes snapped instantly towards him, and he could almost feel the air around him turn turn cold from her icy glare.

"Is there a problem?" The sorceress hissed.

Hastily, he lowered his head a fraction. "No, my lady. I am merely impatient to return to my chores. As enjoyable as I find this, I am afraid I have other matters to attend to."

There was, but for the sounds of Uther's pants, silence in the room for a few seconds. Both sisters' eyes were on him now, analysing every possible meaning in his words. Eventually, though, Morgause nodded.

"I understand. How goes your work? Are you any closer to finding the Prince?"

A quick shake of the head. "Unfortunately not, my lady. But it shouldn't be long. I believe I have almost perfected a spell which will assist us in the search. I just need to finish my preparations."

"And what of the rest of your work?"

"All is going smoothly, my Lady. The people of Camelot are completely under your control. I have so far managed to locate five suitable individuals for the next phase. Given a week or so, I believe I will be able to present you with what you require."

A triumphant smirk tugged at the corner of the Blonde's lips, as well as that of her sister's.

"Excellent," stated the new Queen. "It seems, then, that it is merely a matter time."

Morgause took the young seeress' hands in her own. "Indeed, sister. Soon you will have all that you deserve. And all of Albion will fall under our control."

"Never."

Three sets of eyes flicked towards the source of the exclamation. The former King was glaring venomously at the room's inhabitants, his chest heaving. "I don't know," he panted, "just what you have planned, but mark my words- you _will_ be stopped." His gaze settled once more on his daughter, and just for a moment Uther's determination seemed to fail him. "It's not too late," he pleaded. "You can still turn back."

"And have you execute me, _father_?" Morgana spat, her eyes glittering dangerously. "I think not. No- I have chosen my path. And besides," she smirked, closing the distance between them, "I'm having _far_ too much fun to stop now."

It was only once Uther's howls of pain had filled the chamber once more that Morgause turned to face Michael yet again.

"Your task here is done. You may leave now."

"Thank you, my Lady."

With a quick bow towards each of his mistresses, Michael made to hasten from the room. It wasn't until he reached the doorway that he sensed it- almost imperceptible, but there nonetheless. In fact, he doubted anyone but he himself would have been able to detect the faint protective spell which had worked it's way around Uther's core. A spell formed from the same magic he had felt the previous day, down in the dungeons. The same magic that had been present earlier that day, in the Physician's chambers.

As the doors swung shut behind him, Michael allowed his eyes to narrow. He wouldn't tell Morgana or Morgause about this. Not yet. But there was a sorcerer hiding themselves somewhere in Camelot- a powerful one, with a type of magic he'd never felt before. And Michael couldn't afford to have anyone around who might be capable of interfering in the plan. The sorcerer would have to be found and dealt with. Immediately.

And he was the perfect man for the job.

* * *

><p>"You can't talk?"<p>

Another nod.

Merlin could barely help the small sense of despair he felt, somewhere deep within his heart. They had put in the effort to find one of the vessels- to find some way of defeating Morgause's spell- only to find that, having located one, any assistance she could offer them would be severely limited. After all, how could they work properly, in a situation like this, with someone with whom they couldn't properly communicate?

In an instant, though, his despair was pushed back, and his mind scanning through as many solutions he could think of. This was a game of take what you're given. And if they couldn't figure out how to work with the girl, then all may well be lost.

With a mumbled "give me a minute," and a quick, reassuring smile to the girl, Merlin made his way over the side of the room, and sat with his back against the wall and his head tilted back. It was how, over the past half a year, he had positioned himself when thinking of new spell variations- a simple trick to focus his mind. So deep in thought was he, that he barely even registered it when Arthur joined him until a few seconds later, when the Prince spoke.

"Have you thought of anything?"

Merlin nodded. "I can place a tracer on her for if we lose sight of her, but I doubt we'll be able to get much information from her directly about what's going on, or where the other vessels are. The best idea would probably be to go to higher ground- maybe a tower, or the battlements, and run a spell through her, and in to the magic's web. I might be able to locate the vessels that way, and maybe even get a message through to them."

"Such as?"

"I was thinking of asking them to meet us somewhere. It would make it easier than having to seek each one out individually. The problem is whether or not they'd come. After all, some of them may support what Morgana and Morgause are doing. There's no guarantee they would agree to help, and I don't want to use force against them if it can be helped."

"What about the enemy? Would any of them be able to trace you from the spell? Would they be able to sense you using it?"

The young Warlock paused for a moment, deliberating. "I don't think so. If I'm careful, I should be able to avoid detection. But it would be best to remain alert, just in case."

There was a break in the conversation, as Arthur seemed to be pondering over what Merlin had said. The Prince had always been good in this sort of situation- he was able to think clearly under tremendous amounts of pressure. If Arthur managed to reach a decision, Merlin was more than willing to follow it. Not that he would ever tell the Prince just how great his trust in the older man was. That just wasn't a manly thing to say.

Finally, Arthur nodded. "It sounds like a good plan. It might be a good idea, though, to place tracers on all of us. If it comes to it, we may have to split up and go to collect a few of the vessels individually. With the tracers, you'd be able to tell if anything happens to us. Right?"

"Right. Although you won't need one. The tattoo is enough in your case."

"Of course." The Blond rose to his feet. "Now come on. It's about time we let that girl know what on earth she's doing here. She must find it somewhat unnerving to suddenly find herself in a room full of total strangers."

Merlin barely managed to hold back a smile. It seemed that, in the time the two had been apart, Arthur's empathy towards others had grown. The man was definitely on his way to becoming a fine King.

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><p><strong>Okay, I hope that made it up to you for the amount of time I've kept you all waiting. I won't ask for reviews, as I really don't deserve them given my lack of fanfiction presence for the last few months. <strong>

**I hope you enjoyed it XD**

**WAHHH! SERIES FOUR ROCKS!**


	22. Chapter 22

**Okay, as I told some of you I would do, here's a more full explanation of my absence from fanfiction:**

**So, first came exams (as you know). Then I was surprisingly busy with stuff for a children's club I help at, even doing stuff like writing scripts for the weekly pantomime. Following that, I became completely addicted (again) to Japanese Dramas, and ended up spending almost all of my free time watching those. Especially this one drama, which I've now seen about 15 times (the first three times were in a row). There also came illness and more hectic things to keep me busy before I went home. I then got my mum addicted to the same Japanese Drama I had watched, along with several others. Together with babysitting, meeting up with old friends, family activities, and more. And, on top of all that, (and probably fuelled by the guilt at not posting any news chapters), I found myself to have a massive case of writer's block (which was quite a shock to me- I've never had it before).**

**But! Here's hoping that that's all over with now. I'm slowly worming fanfiction back into my life. And once things have settled down (third year of Uni is proving rather busy) I should be able to return to some semblance of my usual update pace. **

**So there you go- it's not much, and I'm sure I missed things out, but it's just my way of offering an apology, and an explanation, for my disappearance. Once again, I am SOOOO sorry!**

**Anyway, I'm sure those of you who read this are probably bored by now, so I'll get on with it. Not much in the way of action in this chapter, but it is necessary so that I can move on to the next stage.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin :'(**

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><p><strong>Chapter 22<strong>

Merlin looked back over to where the girl stood, still seeming slightly wary of the others in the room. She was staring at him, her eyes wide, and her teeth teasing gently at her bottom lip. Offering her a wide grin, Merlin patted the floor beside him, inviting her to come and sit.

Almost at once, the girl rushed over, settling herself down and holding onto his jacket with one hand, the other hand going to her mouth so that she could gnaw at the nail on her thumb. In an odd way, she reminded the young Warlock of how he had been as a child- he had always clung to his mother, and found most of the other people in the village far too daunting to approach, lest they find out about his magic.

Turning slightly, so that he was facing the girl, he began to speak.

"Alright, I think we should probably start off with finding something to call you. Do you have a name?"

A nod.

"Do you know how to write it?"

This time, the girl shook her head, her expression apologetic. Merlin couldn't help but grin in return.

"Don't worry. It doesn't matter." He paused for a moment, serious, before allowing a small smile to dance across his lips. "How about this? We could choose you a name for now. And then, once all this is over, we could help you find your parents... do you have any?"

A quick, indignant nod, and the fast removal of her thumb from her mouth, was his instant reply.

"Of course you do. Well then, once all this is over, we can try to help you find them. And then it will be even more exciting for us because we'll get to find out your real name. What do you think?"

The girl beamed back at him, nodding enthusiastically. Encouraged, Merlin faced the others in the room.

"Any ideas? I'm probably not the best at things like this." He smiled, shooting a playful glance in Arthur's direction. "And I have no doubt the first thing to pop out of the prat's head would be something no girl would want to hear." Ignoring the Blond's protests, he continued. "Which leaves Kennard and Gwen. What do you think?"

Kennard smiled good-naturedly, then cast a careful eye over the eager child seated by the Warlock's side. "I have a cousin called Fira, and another named Olivia, but neither seems to fit in this case. Besides," he joked, "neither of those cousins have provided anything in the way of a welcome memory."

"How about Paige?"Suggested Gwen. "It's simple enough. We don't want anything extravagant if it's only temporary, and I think Paige is a nice name."

Merlin smiled down at the girl. "How about it? Do you like Paige?" Laughing at the exuberant nod he received in reply, he patted her head gently. "Then Paige it is. Nice to meet you, Paige."

A small flush of pink blossomed in Paige's cheeks, and she ducked her head down, her fingers tightening where they held onto Merlin's shirt. The Warlock smiled gently, then looked over to where Arthur stood, his expression growing serious. Once their gazes locked, the elder man nodded. It was about time they got down to business.

"Paige?"

Paige lifted her head to face Merlin, her brow furrowing in mild confusion at the sudden change from the Warlock's previously light-hearted tone.

"Now, I know that this is going to sound like a strange question, but do you understand what's happened to the people in Camelot?"

The girl's eyes widened, a small glimmer of fear entering them. Slowly, she lifted her free hand and, with a wide, sweeping, gesture, waved it in a large circle.

"The room?"

A shake of her head. Merlin thought quickly. Something that would relate to the situation...

"...Everyone?"

A proud grin flicked across the Paige's face. This time, the hand went to her temple. Crossing her eyes comically, she made a small circular motion with her index finger.

"Crazy? Everyone went crazy?"

Another nod, before the finger moved to point at her chest, followed quickly by a shake of the head, accompanied with the same cross shape she had made with her arms earlier.

"You didn't? Everyone went crazy, and you didn't? Is that it?"

A beaming smile acknowledged this as the correct answer.

"Only you? Or are there other people who didn't go crazy?"

Paige tilted her head to the side, her expression clearly saying that she was thinking about her answer. Finally, she gave a small, unsure nod.

"Do you know where those people are?"

An immediate shake of the head.

Merlin leaned forward slightly, looking her straight in the eye. "I'm going to tell you a secret. Will you listen to me?"

This time, the nod was interrupted by a minuscule frown, and a furtive glance at the other people in the room- all of whom were watching the exchange between Child and Warlock with eagle eyes.

Merlin laughed. "Don't worry- they already know the secret."

Once Arthur, Gwen and Kennard had all nodded their affirmation of this fact, Paige looked back at Merlin, nodding shyly. At the same time, she lifted her hand to brush back a strand of hair which had fallen in front of her face.

"Well, you see, the secret is that, deep inside of you, there is a magic spell. And not just in you, but in some of the other not-crazy people too. And this is a bad magic that someone has put in you." Seeing the girl's alarmed look, Merlin shook his head reassuringly. "Don't worry- if you can help us to find those other not-crazy people, then I might be able to use my magic to take the bad spell out of you. And if I can do that, then everyone else in Camelot will stop being crazy too.

"So how about it? Will you help us?"

This time, Paige grinned widely, nodding so enthusiastically that she ended up with what seemed like half of her hair in her mouth. As she was preoccupied with removing said hair, Merlin couldn't help but beam at her in return.

"Thank you. Now, we're going to have to leave this room, and go somewhere very high. If we do that, I can find the other non-crazy people and tell them that we can take the bad magic away. Are you ready?"

In one swift motion, the girl leapt to her feet. Within seconds, she was standing at the door, looking expectantly back at the room's inhabitants. This time, Arthur beat Merlin to the laugh.

"I suppose," the Blond smiled, "that we can take that as a yes." Moving forward, he crouched down to the young girl's height and offered her his hand. "Welcome aboard Paige. I look forward to working with you."

If Paige could talk, Merlin would have sworn that she would have let out a laugh at that point. But instead, she merely smiled cheekily and shook the offered hand in both of hers, before ruffling Arthur's hair and running back to the young Warlock, who had now risen to his feet, and dragging him over to the door. Merlin couldn't help but laugh at her antics.

"Well then, I suppose we better get going then."

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><p><strong>Is it just me, or does anyone else think Paige is really cute? She just keeps becoming more and more adorable in my head!<strong>

**[SPOILERS FOR S4 DURING THE REST OF THIS AN]**

**On a random note, for those of you who have seen the new episodes, in S4.E1, when Lancelot says 'If you leave in the morning, I'll cover with Arthur,' doesn't his 'cover' sound just like he's saying 'cuddle?' AWKWARD!**

**(ps- HA HA LANCELOT! [The dude has bugged me for yonks])**

**(pps- YAY! Dragoon the Great returns!)**


	23. Chapter 23

**Phew. Sorry guys, this chapter would have been done a couple of weeks ago, but I found myself unable to write for a while, after a certain horrific event (which will not be mentioned directly) in S4.E3. I'm still depressed about that one. Merlin hasn't been quite the same to me since.**

**But you know what? This is my story. My world. And in this story, 4.3 NEVER HAPPENED! In this story, 4.3 _WILL NEVER HAPPEN!_ *Eye twitches* You hear me? NEVER! NEVER EVER! And as far as canon goes, just you wait until I can flag down the Doctor. Oh, we'll be going back in time alright. And if I can't convince the writers to change that episode's content, I'll darn well hijack the Tardis, zoom into the world of Merlin, go back in time some more, and kill of everyone who led to the events of that episode! Ooooh, there are several people GOING DOWN! *Goes into spasms for several minutes***

***Panting hard* Anyway, I'm sure you're all sick of my *twitch* ranting, so here's the next chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin (If I did, 4.3 would have had much nicer results)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 23<strong>

The group moved fast. Not as fast as Arthur would have liked, but he kept reminding himself that they had a child in their company. It wouldn't have been fair to make her try to keep up with four running adults. Even if one of those adults was as athletically challenged as Merlin.

It was strange- having a child in the group. Growing up as a Prince, Arthur had spent most of his time in the presence of adults in the court. Even when the sons and daughters of noble families had been in the castle, he hadn't really interacted with them much. He hadn't wanted a friend who was only a friend out of obligation. As such, he had found himself almost in awe of just how easily the other three- especially Merlin and Guinevere- had interacted with Paige. Just how did they know the right words to use? Or the right tone?

But those were thoughts for another time. When Camelot had been freed. Right at that moment, the most important thing was that they reached the castle battlements undetected. Luckily, Merlin had remembered to cast the same spell over Paige as he had over the rest of their group, so the ordinary residents were of no danger to them. The problem was making sure they didn't stray near any of the more powerful sorcerers in the castle.

Hearing footsteps up ahead, Arthur automatically flattened himself against a wall, gesturing for the others to do the same. A few moments later, one of the castle guards passed by them. The Prince had to repress a shiver at the sight of the man's blank eyes- yet another reminder of the importance of their task.

Once the man had passed, they were off again.

For about fifteen minutes, the same pattern was repeated. Move. Avoid. Move again. At one point, three of their party had had to restrain themselves from calling out, when they spotted an enchanted Gaius making his way towards the direction of his chambers. Arthur had had to remind Merlin that they had to focus on the task at hand. Rescuing another person from the spell at that point in time would only have aroused suspicion, and it was unlikely that the old man would have been able to keep up with them. Fortunately, Merlin seemed to understand. Apparently, greater control over his powers was not the only thing the Warlock had gained during his imprisonment. He had managed to become more capable of wise decisions.

Finally, though, they reached one of the doors to the castle battlements. And, after having confirmed that there was no-one on the other side, the five of them made their way through.

Arthur was just opening his mouth to organise the group so that the two Knights could provide protection should any unfortunate citizen happen to make their way up to the same location, when he was distracted by the look on Kennard's face. The younger man was staring out towards the city, his brow furrowed, and his normally bright eyes dark with worry.

"What is it?"

And then came the proof that something strange was going on. Ordinarily, Kennard would have immediately turned to face his Prince while replying, but this time his gaze stayed focussed on the city. And he uttered just two words, barely even audible.

"Something's wrong."

As everyone's gazes shifted to follow Kennard's, Arthur felt his own eyes widen, and his heart drop.

"It can't be."

* * *

><p>He slumped forward, the manacles around his wrists cutting into his exposed skin once more. The pain, however, went practically unnoticed by Uther, dwarfed as it was by the yet-to-subside agony still present from the torture his daughter had been inflicting on him mere moments before.<p>

He watched through bleary eyes as Morgana turned back to her sister, some quick words passing between the two before they swept out of the room. He found himself unable to make out their words past the high-pitched ringing in his ears, caused by the pain still reverberating around his body.

The pain, though, wasn't as torturous as it had been at first. There was a strange warmth which had settled itself inside of him, which, while it didn't diminish the level of agony he felt each time Morgana's cursed finger had touched his skin, did succeed in providing some measure of shelter for the core of his being- a protection which kept his focus, keeping him mind clear, sane, and comforted. Where this strange warmth came from he had no way of telling, but he did know that it was kind, pure, and highly protective. But at the same time, he also detected what could only be described as the warmth's apology- a deep sorrow that is couldn't do more for him. That it couldn't save him from his predicament.

And there was also a promise. That the warmth's source was working to the best of it's ability to return things to the way they should be, dragging Uther's Kingdom up from where it had fallen. And, for once in his life, the fallen King found himself perfectly willing to place his every hope into another's hands. For how could anything as pure as what he could sense at that moment ever betray him? The answer was simple. It wouldn't. Couldn't.

And so he chose to wait. He had no choice now but to believe in the future that the warmth and, he was sure, Arthur were fighting for. Everything was in their hands now.

* * *

><p>An unnaturally silent city spread out below them. The air felt twisted somehow, as though even nature itself had been forced in to some unspeakably dark purpose. Arthur couldn't help but shiver in nervous anticipation, a horrifying sense of <em>Déjà vu<em> creeping up his spine. He watched, his mind turning numb, as down below the people walked slowly through the streets, the spell's trance making their faces blank, with no sound coming from the mouths of even the smallest infants. He couldn't even hear the usually expected drumming of footsteps on the cobblestones. Camelot's citizens marched silently into the square, forming neat rows as they came to a stop, all of them focusing their attention on a single point. The castle's main balcony.

And then a figure emerged- just as he had known she would-dressed in royal purple silk, with her dress trailing behind her, and her long, dark tresses styled into a beautifully elegant design. And, as proof of the coronation he had been hoping had not yet taken place, a crown atop her head.

Morgana.

Arthur stumbled ungracefully backwards, barely even aware of the others' startled eyes on him. He didn't want to see it. Didn't want to witness the moment Morgause came out. It would just be that final piece of proof that he had been betrayed by the woman he had always thought of as a sister. As much as he knew the truth in his head, seeing it with his eyes would hurt too much.

But, as much as he wanted too, he could not ignore the voices ringing out from the courtyard. Could not block the people's cries from his ears.

"All hail Queen Morgana!"

It was just like in his dream- the empty voices echoing through the air. Part of him half expected the world to freeze, while a mighty Dragon swept down from the sky. His eyes turned towards his left arm, where he knew the tattoo Merlin's magic had given him lay beneath his sleeves. The creature from his dream had looked just like it. But surely a tattoo couldn't speak to him. And it definitely couldn't tell the future. Could it?

His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden, if light, slap to his face.

"Snap out of it, prat!"

Blinking a few times, Arthur glared up into the blue eyes of his friend. "And what, may I ask, was that for?"

"Well, unless you want to continue standing there in a daze, I thought it might be a good idea to actually pay attention. Morgana doesn't know we can hear her- who knows what she might give away."

"In case you'd forgotten, _Mer_lin, _I'm_ the one who gives the orders around here." Walking forward so that he was once again near the edge of the battlements, the Blond glanced back at the dark-haired Warlock. "Well, come on then. We need to pay attention here."

With a roll of his eyes, Merlin joined him, the others crouching alongside the two men, peering over the wall at the scene below. Paige seated herself down between Merlin and Arthur, holding onto the younger man's shirt in the process.

"...has given me the Crown." Morgana's voice rang out, loud and clear. "And I promise to lead this kingdom into a time of peace and prosperity. With all of you by my side, there will be no more oppression. And Camelot will spread out across the nations, bringing them all under one mighty rule! Are you with me?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow as yet another soul-less cheer reverberated through the air. He didn't know why Morgana was even making such a speech, considering the fact that the people had no choice _but_ to follow her. But what surprised him was the content of her words. It actually sounded like she truly wanted to bring peace to the land.

Or, at least, it seemed that way. Until she turned to leave the balcony, and he glimpsed a flicker of a smirk dancing across her features.

The five of them stayed silent until the crowds had dispersed. At that point, Arthur instantly took control.

"Right. It looks like we need to move fast. I don't know how on Earth Morgana's planning to get the other Kingdoms under her thumb, but I doubt it's anything good.

"Guinevere and Paige, you two stand over there-" he gestured towards a corner which looked relatively easy to defend. "Merlin, you stay near them. Do whatever it is you need to do to contact the other vessels. Kennard and I will stand guard, just in case anything happens. Got it?"

"Got it." The answer came from the other three adults, Paige simply nodding apprehensively as Guinevere led her over to the corner. As everyone settled into their positions, Arthur kept half an eye on Merlin as he sat down next to Paige, laying a single hand on the young girl's shoulder.

The Warlock closed his eyes...

...Breathed deeply...

...And begun to cast his spell.

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><p><strong>Ja-jan! And here we go! I told you that things would be kicking off soon. Mwah ha ha ha haaaaa!<strong>

**So? Do I deserve any reviews?**


	24. Chapter 24

**I'm so sorry everyone! You really don't deserve to have to wait for so long between chapters! But I want to thank you all for being so patient with me regarding this story. Thanks to that, as well as the small pushes I got from more recent reviews, my sparks of enthusiasm and inspiration for this story (and pretty much all things fanfiction) have finally started to properly return to me. I don't want to make any promises, but I have a feeling chapters should start coming out more quickly now. I'm just sorry that you had to wait so long, and I hope that this chapter (as well as the rest of this story) will go towards making it up to you. Also, feel free to torture me in whatever ways you see fit (although I would suggest leaving my hands and the fanfiction part of my brain alone).**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 24<strong>

The world once again erupted into a magnificent web of gold, shimmering as it made it's way over Camelot, it's various strands separating into different colours and binding themselves to almost every heart littered around the vast Kingdom. Merlin sent a small burst of his own magic out to meet it- using where the palm of his hand met Paige's shoulder as a conduit so that he could connect with the web with relative ease. The young girl, he noticed distantly, was doing quite well considering the circumstances they were under- she seemed to have blocked out a large portion of her fear, and was instead focusing on what Merlin himself was doing, trying to get a hint about she could control her own power herself in the future.

Moving quickly, Merlin pushed his magic further. Faster and faster it sped along the golden strands, until it was almost impossible for his mind to keep up with it. Eventually, using the magic he had sent into the web the previous day to guide him, he found the first part of what he had been searching for, for his magic appeared to be in the presence of whatever- or rather, _who_ever- was the source of the spell. He didn't dwell on this triumph though, but instead moved on, splitting his magic into several glittering specks at this point. Each speck he sent down a single one of the multiple threads which were connected to the source, zooming as fast as he could get them to move towards the glows in the distance which he recognised as being the vessels. It was an extremely difficult task, to split his own mind into so many separate beings, but it was necessary. Speed was off the essence, and he couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling that the source had somehow detected his brief presence. Not that it made any difference to the young Warlock's speed anyway- he already knew just how fast he needed to work if he wanted to have any hope at all of sorting out the mess they had found themselves in.

And then, after what seemed to him like an age, the specks of his magic finally arrived at their intended targets and began to settle themselves. He felt some of the vessels stir in surprise as they felt the foreign magic enter them, planting it's seeds deep within their minds. Each seed held a single message- a simple reassurance that help was on it's way if they could just remain calm and follow the instructions they would become aware of over the course of the next few minutes.

His task done, it was then time for Merlin to withdraw. He sped back along the threads, his mind dancing lightly along the beams of light as though it was something he had practised every day of his life- and, in a way, he supposed it was. As he passed the point of the source, the pieces of his magic gathered together once more, pirouetting once before rushing off on the last dash home.

It was at this point that he realised he was being followed.

Not registering the surprise on Arthur and his other companions' faces as his eyes snapped open in shock back in his body, Merlin redoubled his mental efforts. Hopping lightly to one side, he darted speedily down a random thread of light. Time and time again he hopped, from thread to thread, from shining string to shining string. And all the time he felt his pursuer just a short distance behind him- ready to attack should Merlin let his guard down for even a single second. The other mind- what he sensed of it anyway- felt vaguely familiar. Not in the way of someone he had known for a long time, but more in the manner of a niggling sensation that he had at least passed this person at some point quite recently.

Suddenly, he was struck with an idea.

Drawing to an instantaneous halt, Merlin grabbed at a tiny sliver of his own magic, and used it to thread a single wire between the thread he was currently on and one far off to what his magic told him was the left. Before his pursuer even had time to register what had happened, Merlin was moving along the new wire- his speed increasing tenfold by the fact that he was travelling now on his own magic, and not some untrained stranger's. And as he moved, he erased the thread behind him, reeling it in so that it was once again part of his collected bead of magic. This way, there was absolutely no way for whoever had been chasing him to find him. Not without expending a great deal of time and effort.

Within just a few more short moments, he had traced his way back to the start of his journey. Guiding his magic back through the palm of his hand, and blinking a couple of times to clear the golden web from his vision, he shot his companions a goofy grin.

"I did it. In about five or so minutes, they'll each become aware of a message explaining the basic details of what's happening, and asking them to meet us." He ruffled Paige's hair affectionately. "Thanks a lot Paige- you were a great help."

The young girl let loose a shyly proud smile, just as Arthur asked a question of his own.

"Do you think they'll come?"

Merlin paused for a moment, thinking back on the brief glimpse he had caught of each of the vessels' minds.

"I think so. None of them seemed malicious- I think they were probably just innocent pawns in all of this. They're probably all just as confused as Paige was over the matter."

The Prince nodded his approval. "And what about you? You weren't detected, right? We thought something might have happened for a moment there."

The young Warlock allowed a small frown to momentarily crease his brow. "The person acting as the main source. I had to pass him twice, and he ended up coming after me the second time. I think I managed to shake him off, but now he's definitely aware of my presence, even if he doesn't know who I am. We should probably move from here straight away, just to be safe."

"Very well. In that case, we better head right over to the meeting place." The place in question was something they had decided on before heading to the battlements- a large room in the older part of the castle. It had two advantages to it- the first being that it was one of the furthest points from the throne room as possible, and the second that it had been practically unused for years. There was a chance, however slight, that Morgana wouldn't even remember that it was there.

The group made their way towards the door, Gwen automatically taking hold of Paige's hand. Time seemed almost to slow for Merlin as Arthur's hand reached out towards the handle, as the faintest whiff of a magical presence swept through from the corridor beyond. The source.

"Get back!"

Instantly, everyone was on high alert. Kennard grabbed hold of the two girls, silently guiding them backwards and around a corner, out of sight.

Arthur and Merlin both took several steps back, preparing themselves to fight if necessary. Hopefully the situation wouldn't call for it, but with the way their luck was going, both of them were fairly sure that some sort of trouble was about to occur. Merlin had to bite back a sarcastic comment. If destiny really wanted them to create the perfect Kingdom, it sure had a funny way of showing it.

The door opened slowly. Cautiously. Merlin felt it when a small burst of magic came through the open slit, creating a protective shield around whoever it was on the other side. It didn't feel like Morgause, or even Morgana. But before he could put his finger on just whom he had felt that particular magic from, the question was answered for him.

A head of sparse ginger hair was the first thing to appear, followed quickly by the rest of the scrawny figure which proved to be Michael- the sorcerer who had sensed them in the cells. The man's cunning brown eyes turned instantly towards Merlin.

"So you're the one?"

Before Merlin could even reply, Michael attacked. With a mutter of _'__nædl,__'_ a wave of magic, formed into a thousand pinpricks, rushed through the air towards where he and Arthur were standing. Merlin lifted a hand in defence, the sheer force of the attack shocking him as it slammed into the shimmering haze of a shield now hanging between the two parties. Pushing forwards, he deflected the attack harmlessly to either side.

"Why are you doing this?" Even if this man did want magic to return, the young Warlock couldn't understand how he could turn to such drastic measures. But it seemed that Michael misunderstood the question, instead believing that Merlin was asking why the older man was attacking their group so suddenly.

"Because you're in the way! I don't know who you are, but there's no way I'm going to let you interrupt now! Not when I'm so close!" In an instant, he tilted his head back, raising his hands towards the sky, then forced them back down to point at Merlin, at the same time yelling out "_líeg_!"

A flash of flame-coloured lightning burst from out of nowhere. Merlin, who had expected the attack to come from above, was just an instant too slow in his counter. It seemed six months in a cell had somewhat slowed his reflexes.

Thankfully, though, this was not so for the Prince.

Arthur leapt forward, the magic of his tattoo jumping to his defence even as he dove into the path of the magic. At once, a burst of pressure slammed through the air towards Michael, forcing the lightning out of existence, as if it had never been there in the first place. If the ginger-haired man hadn't strengthened his shield just in time, he would have found himself lying, unconscious, on the floor. As it was, though, he simply flew backwards and off of his feet, landing about two feet behind where he had originally stood. He seemed about to retaliate, when the sound of a person struggling to get free sounded from somewhere behind Merlin and Arthur.

Michael's expression immediately rushed through about a million different emotions as his eyes flickered towards the commotion- shock and relief among the most prominent of them all. He suddenly looked extraordinarily vulnerable.

"Aveline..."

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><p><strong>(p.s. The respective spells are 'needle' and 'lightning')<strong>


	25. Chapter 25

**Phew. Not too long since the last chapter was posted. Right? **

**Thank you so much to those who reviewed last chapter. It really means a lot that you've stuck with this story, even though I've treated you so poorly. I assure you, I will try my utmost from here on no never put you through such a long wait again. In fact, if you ever feel that you've been left waiting for too long, please feel free to bombard me with pms and torture until I post again. **

**Now, I hope you enjoy all that this chapter has in store. It would be slightly longer, but it just seemed to work that I stopped where I have.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

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><p><strong>Chapter 25<strong>

Arthur and Merlin turned around to see both Gwen and Kennard endeavouring to keep hold of a struggling Paige. Then, in that strange power possessed by children, she was free of their grips and past the Prince and the Warlock almost before anyone had a chance to react. Arthur made a futile grab for her as she dove past them, yelling her name at the same time as Merlin called out from beside him "No! He's dangerous!"

But the young girl paid them no heed. Instead, she stood just in front of Michael, her arms out wide in defence, and an expression on her face which suggested that she would fight them with all her might if they tried to lay even a finger on the fallen man.

Suddenly, before Arthur could quite figure out exactly what was going on, Michael had leapt up from where he lay, dumb-struck, twisted the young girl to face him, and pulled her into his arms. Arthur began to dart forward, only noticing once he had already taken a step forward that the ginger-haired man was not trying to either injure Paige or to hold her as a hostage. Instead, the older man had pulled her into one of the tightest hugs the young Prince had ever seen, his face screwed up in an expression of indescribable relief.

"You're safe," the man kept muttering, almost as though having to reassure himself that what he was saying was the truth. "You're safe." Then he pulled back, holding Paige at arms length and inspecting her from head to toe, before finally pulling her back into a firm embrace once more. As the young girl's body wracked with joyful sobs, he tightened his hold on her, staring up at the bemused group standing before him.

"What's going on?" He demanded. "Why is Aveline with you?"

Gwen's voice sounded from behind the dazed Prince. "Aveline? Is that her name? What is she to you?"

Michael glared at her. "Yes her name is Aveline. Now, tell me before I do something rash- why was my daughter with you?"

Silence. The word daughter swirled round and round inside Arthur's mind, and in the minds of his companions. Slowly, though, the meaning behind what Michael had said began to sink in, forming a nauseous feeling deep in the pit of the Blond's stomach. Before he could stop himself, a harsh laugh burst from his mouth.

"Daughter? I should have known!" His voice was increasing in volume and pitch, but Arthur suddenly found that he didn't particularly care. "What is it with you people?" He exclaimed. "What is it with villains and evil sorcerers? Do family ties mean absolutely _nothing_ to you?" He was pacing now, memories of growing up with Morgana flying through his brain at break-neck pace, coupled with Merlin's description of how Morgause had once used her as the vessel for the sleeping spell. The frustration and worry he had felt over the past six months burst out in a torrent of jumbled emotions, until he almost sounded hysterical. "Why on _Earth_ do you constantly insist on betraying those who believe in you? On putting them in obvious danger? I mean, if you know people are likely to kill a vessel in order to break a spell, surely the _logical_ thing to do would be to put it on someone who isn't actually _related_ to you! But no-!"

He was cut off abruptly by Merlin grabbing hold of his shoulders, the younger man's eyes boring into his own. A similar pain was mirrored in those eyes, and yet Merlin remained calm. And it was this calmness which forced the Prince's voice to catch, and his shoulders to slump slightly in defeat.

"Arthur," uttered the younger man. "I'm not entirely sure it's as simple as that."

For an instant, Arthur almost flew into another rage- the thought of people using their friends and family so harshly the one thing on his mind. But Merlin had always been somewhat more perceptive than the Prince where emotions were concerned.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur allowed his tumultuous thoughts to dispel into the surrounding air, drawing on some of his friend's strength. He still couldn't understand- much less accept- Michael's apparent cold-heartedness in placing his young daughter in such obvious danger, but he couldn't allow his emotions to negatively affect their mission. Squaring his shoulders, he turned back to face his other companions, and then towards the two on the floor, every ounce the stoic Prince once more.

"Explain," he ordered Michael. "And do it quickly- we don't have time."

For the first time, the older man took a proper look at the group of people crowed in front of him. He seemed to know easily enough who Arthur was, and a faint glimmer of recognition flicked across his eyes as they passed over Guinevere and Kennard. But when they reached Merlin, he simply stared, his brow furrowed slightly as though the young man before him was the greatest mystery he had ever encountered. In what seemed to be a complete disregard of the Prince's orders, he focused almost all of his attention on Merlin.

"Who are you?" He demanded. "_What_ are you?"

Merlin's eyebrows raised in confused surprise. "What do you mean?"

"You-" began Michael. "You are no ordinary magic user- I have never encountered someone with a magic like yours. And I refuse to tell you a thing until I know what exactly you are."

It was only because Arthur knew Merlin as well as he did that he saw it. The slightest of inner flinches every time Michael used the word 'what.' A burst of protective anger rushed through his body.

"Would you stop referring to him as though he were some sort of creature?" He snapped. "Merlin is not-"

"Merlin?"

Everyone froze as the word erupted from Michael's mouth. And if he had been staring at Merlin before, it was nothing compared to the intently analysing look he was now focusing solely on the young Warlock. Ignoring the way Merlin shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, the older man suddenly burst into a stream of accusations.

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><p>Michael could barely breathe. Had the weight of Aveline in his arms not felt so real, he almost would have thought that he was dreaming. But then reality came crashing down around him, and he had to keep himself from snorting derisively. There was no way that the gawky young man in front of him could be who the Prince was claiming he was. And now his anger had blazed into life, and he determined then and there to bring and end to this <em>façade<em>, before then bringing the imposter to his knees.

"You're claiming to be Merlin?" He demanded. "Impossible- that's impossible. Every magic user in the Kingdom knows that Merlin- that Emrys- is dead. It's the only reason half of us even agreed to go along with Morgause's ridiculous plan. And if Emrys was executed, then it's blatantly obvious that you can't be him, so if this is some sort of sick joke, or some way to try and distract me, then it's not going to work. Now who are you? Answer me!"

He stared with all his might into the younger man's eyes, watching as, for just a single brief moment, an almost indescribable amount of pain flickered through their startlingly blue depths. And then the imposter with the abnormal magic came forward, kneeling before him. And before Michael had a chance to pull away, the boy had placed a hand on either side of the sorcerer's head.

"It would probably be faster to just show you."

Almost as soon as the words had been uttered, a wave of... _something_ burst from the younger man, rushing into Michael's head. Images danced before his eyes, the speech matching each one passing through his mind in such a torrential flow that he had no idea how the boy with the now-golden eyes was able to make it so that Michael could understand each one with perfect clarity. In those few seconds, he witnessed meetings with Dragons, and heard tales of destiny. He saw time after time when a gangly lad had saved a Prince's life, and experienced a tiny portion of understanding over the boy's overwhelming acceptance as he came to understand a little of the enormous wealth of power he held. He saw the battle of six months prior through the eyes of Camelot's defender, and felt the terror Merlin had felt as he stood upon the Pyre, his magic lashing out against his will to strike at those had tried to harm him. And last, but most certainly not least, he lived in those moments through the six months spent in a tiny cell, still protecting Camelot, before finally being set free to try to break the spell the two witch-sisters had set over the Kingdom he so dearly loved.

When Merlin finally drew his hands away, finally ending the eternity-seconds, Michael was left gasping for breath, his mind overwhelmed. There had been so much emotion in those memories- for what else could they have been but memories? So much protectiveness. So much love. So much pain. So many experiences. And so much _power_ that Michael could only be glad that Merlin had only shown him a glimpse of it. If the boy had chosen to, Michael would have been burnt from the inside out in those moments. If the gangly, unassuming boy in front of him had wanted, he could bring the kingdom- the world- to it's knees before him. No-one else but Merlin could have held that amount of power and stayed the humble servant he had proven himself to be. It was no wonder that the right to wield it had been given to Merlin, and Merlin alone. For there was no other person who would ever live who could handle the burden and responsibility of being Emrys without being driven mad.

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><p><strong>So? I hope it wasn't too OOC. If you think I deserve it, please let me know your thoughts XD<strong>


	26. Chapter 26

***wipes brow* Sorry everyone, that I had to make you wait once again. Exams were...not nice... **

**BUT! Exams are now over, so I'm free to pursue fun things once again, away from the enthusiasm-draining hell that is revision. And so, I give you chapter 26! Wherein things get just that little bit more complicated. He he.**

**I apologise for any mistakes- I've only just finished writing this chapter, and haven't checked it over, but I didn't want to leave you all waiting any longer. Please feel free to point out any muck-ups, and I shall endeavour to fix them!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin (If I did, 4.3 would never have happened, and there would probably be a ridiculous plot twist like Gaius being the immortal Emrys all along. That, or is would dissolve into complete crack. Or I might add more angst. Or already had a reveal. I dunno what exactly- it would probably just be very different... I'll stop now...)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 26<strong>

Michael seemed to collapse in on himself the instant Merlin withdrew his hands, and Gwen found herself having to leap forward onto her knees, tugging Aveline into her solid grip as the young girl struggled to rush and pull the dark-haired man away from her father. The only sound to break the heavy silence was Michael's gasping breaths- the two Knights of their party simply staring in shock between the man on the floor and the Warlock standing before them all.

After several seconds, and before Aveline could manage to wrestle her way from Gwen's grasp, the chestnut-skinned woman finally found the strength to speak. Her eyes flickered between Michael and Merlin once more, before settling on her friend.

"What did you do to him?"

Merlin seemed to come out of some kind of stupor, casting his eyes around the group and taking in the stunned expressions on his companions' faces.

"I just showed him some of my memories." His glance landed on the young girl in Gwen's arms, and he smiled reassuringly. "It's fine Pai- um... Aveline- he's not harmed at all. Just a bit unsettled, I'm guessing. See?" He gestured towards the ginger-haired man, and Aveline stilled as she realised that her father's breathing was finally starting to settle, and that he was now staring up at Merlin with a strange mix of shock and near reverential awe.

"You really are Emrys," the older man breathed out. At Merlin's confirmatory nod, a faint sheen engulfed the Brown of his eyes, and a strangely exultant laugh echoed around where the six of them were gathered. "So you were alive all this time!"

A disapproving frown Gwen had never seen before settled itself on Merlin's brow, and she found herself starting at the authority in his voice when the Warlock spoke once more. Gone was the gangly youth she had spent over two years getting to know, and in his place, right at that instant, was a being of untold dignity and wisdom.

"And what exactly have you been doing in my absence? You will tell me everything I need to know, now. And you will say it quickly- we are, I believe, running out of time."

The other side of Merlin, Arthur's eyebrows rose almost imperceptibly as the sorcerer's elated grin was wiped from his face, leaving no trace of its presence behind. A glimmer of something akin to pride surfaced momentarily in Arthur's eyes as the Blond surveyed Merlin, before he turned to the man on the floor.

"First things first," Arthur stated briskly, "how did you find us?"

"When," Michael gulped, staring up at Merlin, "when we... encountered... each other in the magic's web, I managed to attach a speck of my magic on to your's, my Lord." He didn't seem to notice Merlin's uncomfortable shuffle at the given title, but instead continued on. "It was this which allowed me to stay in the maze- given the nature of Morgause's spell, I am usually unable to connect myself to the enchantment in such a manner. When I lost you, I withdrew into my own body, and simply trusted my senses to guide me to the tiny measure of my magic which is now stored in you. It is the only method I had of finding you."

Merlin frowned at the reply, and seemed to look inside himself for a moment. Gwen could barely hold back a gasp as her friend suddenly held out his hand, a minuscule speck of light shimmering on the very tip of his index finger.

"You can have this back, then," the Warlock stated, blowing lightly on the speck, and sending it floating through the air to sink through the clothes above were Michael's heart was positioned. He looked over to the Prince. "I'm sorry I didn't notice it, Arthur. This wouldn't have happened if I had."

Gwen couldn't stop herself from saying something in an effort to wipe away the tiny measure or guilt which had settled itself into her friend's expression. "It can't be helped, Merlin. It was only a tiny speck of power, and, well..." Her words escaped her, only for Michael to step in and finish for her.

"And you, my Lord, as Emrys, have enough power that my tiny sliver ended up being even more indistinguishable."

Unsurprisingly, at least to those of the group who knew him well enough, Merlin shuffled uncomfortably once more.

"Will you stop that? I'm not a Lord, and I don't want to be called one. Just Merlin is fine."

Michael nodded from where he sat, then rose slowly to his feet. As Aveline tugged herself out of Gwen's grip, she too rose, smiling at the joy on the child's face as she moved once more to stand by her father, and place her tiny hand in his.

"Of course," the ginger-haired man smiled, "it would be my honour. As it would be if you allowed me to accompany you on your mission. I believe I may be able to provide some measure of assistance."

Gwen took in the scene before her carefully. And, before Arthur and Merlin had even finished exchanging a decisive look, she nodded to herself.

"I don't believe there would be any harm in it. We should let him, Arthur."

The Blond sent her a look which spoke volumes- of pride, and of love- before answering. "Indeed." He glanced towards Michael. "But let there be no doubt- you have not yet proven yourself to me, and I will be watching you. Make one move against us, and I will be forced to take action."

"I would expect nothing less, sire." The sorcerer glanced around the group, his gaze settling on Merlin. "Before we leave, though, would you be willing to tell me how you intend to solve the situation? I fear any aid I can provide will be lacking if I do not know the plan."

Merlin cast a look towards Arthur, waiting for his affirmative nod before he answered the older man.

"There's not much we really know about the spell right now, apart from it's main effects. I was hoping that I would be able to discover more about it by having the vessels- and now you, the source- close to me. I think, judging by what I've seen of it so far, I may be able to withdraw the strands of magic leaving each of them, and guide it back through the web. That should, if I'm correct, nullify the effects and break the enchantment." He stared for a moment into Michael's eyes, blue depths searching brown for any indication that his hypothesis was correct. "What do you think?"

Michael nodded, and to Gwen appeared to look inwards for a few moments.

"What you have described seems similar to the feeling the spell has whenever Morgause manipulates it through me." He continued on, and whether or not he had noticed Arthur's minuscule twitch of his brow at the mention of Morgause's name Gwen had no idea. "But there is one problem."

"What's that?" Questioned Merlin.

"For several months now, the sisters have been sending people to enter Camelot's life- I myself am one of them. Many of the women were instructed to enter the laundry services."

"Why?"

"Morgause wanted a back-up, in case anything went wrong. The women wove spells into the clothes they washed, as well as the soaps used by other laundrywomen. If the original spells over Camelot are ever removed without taking away the back-up, the spell will merely rebound, linking on to the strongest source of magical power within the kingdom. In effect, forming a new vessel. And even if this new vessel dies, the spell will simply move on once again. In effect, the back-up is a trick. And if it isn't removed first, the original enchantment will never be broken."

Shock filtered it's way through Gwen's mind like poison through blood. She glanced down at herself, panic rising. Merlin had removed _her_ from the spell. Did this mean that she would soon succumb once again? That she would now be doomed to be a mindless puppet for the rest of her life? No. No. There was no way, right?

Thoughts racing through her mind at the speed of light, she looked up once again, meaning to voice some of her worries. Her voice failed her, though, as she met Merlin's eyes. The dark-haired man was gazing over at her with an expression of relief. A brief sigh escaped his lips.

"So that was what the haze of magic around Gwen was? Thank goodness I removed that too." His gaze sharpened, and he seemed to realise something, his eyes snapping back to meet Michael's.

"But I can't just go around removing spells from every set of clothes. And I can't just send out a wave of magic to blanket the entire kingdom- it's impossible!"

Kennard stepped into the conversation, brow creased and silver eyes filling with even more worry, but still sharp. "Does this spell not have vessels too? Maybe the laundrywomen? If we track them down, surely we can break this back-up spell."

Merlin just shook his head. "With a spell like this, my guess is that the clothes themselves have become the vessel." He paused, the truth of what he was saying sinking heavily into the hearts of most of the group's members. "I don't know what to do."

A small cough caught everyone's attention, forcing their heads towards Michael. The older man gave a tiny smile.

"I believe I may be able to help."

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><p><strong>Again, please let me know if there are any mistakes. And constructive criticism is always more than welcome. I love to hear your thoughts.<strong>


	27. Chapter 27

***Dons multiple layers of custom-made protective armour, then peeks out from behind the largest, most secure rock available***

**Hello...**

**It's... um... it's kind of been a while...**

**I'll try not to give any huge excuses. Let's just say that I appear to develop the mother of all writer's blocks when I'm not busy. If that makes any sense at all... **

**So, yeah, a lot has changed since last I posted. I've grown older. I'm become more insane than ever. And I moved to Japan almost a month ago, and am now living out my dream job. Why is this good news for you? Turns out that teaching English in Japan leaves me with quite a lot of time sitting in various Teachers' rooms. Turns out this is a fairly much perfect environment for writing- I've even managed to write the next one and a half chapters along with this one! (Although they're not typed up yet).**

**Anyway, I think that's enough from me. I'll shut up and allow you to get to reading.**

**(Ps. Please don't kill me for taking so long!)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

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><p><strong>Chapter 27<strong>

Michael paused at the entrance to the Great Dragon's former cave, taking a moment to marvel at the tremendous size of the cavern in question. Merlin and the others in the party had, thankfully, been quick to agree to his plan once they had heard it, trusting him with such a crucial role even though he had been their enemy such a short time before. Whether they were too trusting, or simply good judges of character, was something which remained to be seen. He was inclined to believe the latter, but something told him the former had played a part in their decision too. Although the fact that time was against them, especially once Merlin's message to the vessels had finished being delivered, had almost certainly been a terrific influence.

Stepping into the cave and looking around, Michael noticed a set of old steps carved into the stone, almost hidden from sight and leading towards the giant outcrop of rock in the centre of the cavern. Taking a deep breath to steady the nausea which had risen within him at the thought of the steep drop to either side of the uneven stairway, the sorcerer began his slow trek along the path, cursing the fact that he couldn't simply transport himself across the drop magically. Unfortunately, such a powerful spell may alert Morgause and her crazy sister to his position. And there was no way on Earth he was going to give them an excuse to come and investigate his unusual behaviour. Not when the entire future of Camelot- indeed, of Albion itself- rested on his success. Instead, he focused on thoughts of what the future might offer once everything was over- a future of freedom, where he and Aveline could live together in peace- where his daughter could grow older free from the secrecy and lies which had, until now, been necessary in order to keep them both alive. Where those magic users who had been hoodwinked into playing the parts of Morgause's puppets in her insane plan could make their own choices once again. Emrys was alive. The Once and Future King was well on his way to fulfilling his destiny. And nothing- not even the complex spells set up by the witch-sisters- would be able to prevent them from walking the path the prophecies had set out for them so many hundreds of years before. Not if he had anything to do with it.

Finally reaching the island of stone, Michael ran a shaky hand through his sparse hair, calming his mind ready for what came next. Casting his eyes over the small platform upon which he now stood, his attention was caught momentarily by a hefty pile of thick black chains, their final link scorched and broken clean in two. This must have been the precise spot where the Dragon had been chained- he recognised it from Merlin's memories. The sorcerer allowed himself a satisfied grin. Perfect. He had, indeed, made the right decision regarding where to perform this task.

Placing the tip of a finger against the solid rock before him, Michael ran through his duties once more in his mind. Once the spell was completed, he would have to move fast. There was no way Morgause would not notice such a shift in the magic she had set- he would have to transport himself to Emrys directly after finishing if they had any hope at all of working fast enough for this to work.

With this in mind, the sorcerer took yet another deep breath and reached out with his mind. Searching out for the position where he knew Merlin must be, he probed the other man's consciousness, waiting for a response. As soon as he knew the young Warlock was listening, he spoke.

_'I'm in position. About to start.'_

_'Alright,'_ came the reply, _'almost everyone's here now anyway, and the rest are definitely on their way. I'll start as soon as they get here.'_

There was a small pause before Merlin continued once more. _'Oh, and Michael?'_

_'Yes?'_

_'Good luck.'_

Michael smiled faintly, reassured slightly in his mission with this reminder that he had the support of the mighty Emrys himself. _'You too.'_

Withdrawing from the brief conversation, Michael focused his mind completely on what shape the final rune needed to take, and began to cast his spell.

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><p>Arthur propped himself against one of the pillars scattered around the edges of the room, trying his utmost to project an air of confidence and approachability. It was only thanks to a lifetime of practice that he was able to prevent his utter disgust at the situation from showing on his face, and the task only grew harder as each new 'vessel' ventured hesitantly into the room.<p>

Thirty Seven.

Including Aveline, that was the total number of children to arrive so far. All, by the looks of it, between the ages of four and thirteen. And all, according to Merlin at least, completely untrained in magic. The Warlock had been greeting each child as he or she arrived, introducing them all both to himself and to the other members of their party and attempting, in general, to lower the level of tension in the room. It wasn't exactly an easy task, but it really was a necessary step considering how much trust they were asking the children to place in their small group.

Once everyone had arrived, bringing the total number of vessels up to thirty-nine (and it was amazing, really, that the witch-sisters had managed to position so many people within the city, even taking the effects of their spells into consideration), the Warlock joined Arthur where he stood.

"Thirty-nine?" The Blond questioned. "That's kind of an odd number, isn't it?"

Merlin quickly developed that shifty expression he always wore when he was trying to hide something.

"There were forty. One isn't a vessel any more."

"What? Why?" What in the name of Camelot could have happened? Was the last one dead or something?

The younger man paused for a moment, as though he was considering something. No doubt whether to give Arthur the entire truth or just half of it. Merlin had an annoying habit of trying to shield the Prince from things he thought he couldn't cope with. It was a habit Arthur was definitely planning on breaking eventually- even if he had to beat his friend to a pulp in order to get the message across that he didn't need babying.

"He was your vessel. Morgause must have worked out that you weren't affected, so she removed the spell from him."

"But that makes no sense." Arthur frowned. "Why bother removing the spell if it wasn't doing anything in the first place? She could have left it as it was, and it wouldn't have made the tiniest amount of difference to her."

A flash of something similar to guilt flashed across Merlin's eyes, but he quickly masked it. "Who knows? I certainly don't want to try and fathom how that Witch thinks."

The Warlock, evidently believing that he had said enough on the subject, beamed at his friend. "You ready?"

Arthur grinned past the anxiety he was feeling about the situation, memories of their past adventures flitting through his mind. He and Merlin had faced seemingly impossible odds before. Together they had fought Afancs, Bandits, Armies and Dragons, and they had even battled against death itself. And, no matter what, they had always come out victorious before. Nothing was going to stop them from doing so again.

"Always."

The two bumped shoulders- their own way of showing support for each other- and Merlin stood aside briefly so that the Prince could take charge. Stepping forward, Arthur looked around at the collection of children, the well of righteous anger within him filling progressively as each worried face stared back at him. In just a few short seconds the well burst, and words began to stream forth almost effortlessly.

"I know you're scared." He nodded reassuringly. "And so am I. But if there's one thing I have learned in life, it's that we should not let our fears control us. Instead, we need to take that fear and work hard to turn it into our strength. Without doing so, we can never move forward. Without doing so, we can never protect what we need to protect.

"Today," he continued, "we need your strength. Each and every one of you-" a smile to the youngest there- "however small, are a vital part of today's mission. If you're willing to help us- if you're willing to trust us- then, together, we can stop the spells Morgana and Morgause have cast over Camelot."

He paused, sensing the question some of the elder children no doubt wanted to ask. "I can't promise that things will be perfect. I know that life in Camelot is not easy for those, like yourselves, with magical abilities. But I promise that I will do absolutely everything in my power to make sure that everyone here, together with your friends and families, can live lives full of happiness, smiles and laughter."

Glancing around to see his message slowly sinking in, Arthur took the only course of action open to him. Kneeling down so that he was on level with most of the smaller children, he faced his audience once again.

"So how about it? Will you help us?"

As a wave of nods and a chorus of 'yes'ses broke forth, the Blonde cast his eye towards his companions. The proud expressions on Merlin's and Guinevere's faces said it all. With his heart filling with gratitude and joy, Arthur rose once again to his feet.

"Thank you."

Then, finally, it was time for Merlin to take the lead. And of course, being Merlin, he felt he had to do it in style. Walking forward into the middle of the room, he tapped his foot against the floor, eyes flaring gold as five glowing blue rings magically etched themselves into the floor, forming the five points of a star, with Merlin in the centre.

"If you could," began the Warlock, his calm smile almost ridiculously infectious, "I'd like you to form four groups of eight and one of seven, and enter the circles. Try to balance out the ages of each group, too, so that the circles are about the same."

Therein followed a few minutes of confusion, with Arthur, Gwen and Kennard dashing about, trying to make sense of the approximate ages as the children formed their clusters. But eventually the groups were roughly balanced, and the vessels entered their circles, fidgeting anxiously, some of them holding hands to share in each-others' strength. As the last child took her place, lines of light shot out of each ring, sketching out the completed image of a star, and also forming one large circle to encompass the whole set-up.

Merlin rotated slowly on the spot, watching with satisfaction as the image he had formed in his mind came to life without a single fault.

"Alright," he began, "I know that none of you have been trained to use your magic, so I've going to have to ask you something a bit strange. I need to ask you, for the next few minutes, to let me take control of your power."

Seeing a hint of panic on some faces, Merlin rushed to reassure them.

"You don't need to worry. It won't hurt, and I won't be taking your magic away. In fact, if you focus, you'll be able to sense everything I do with it, and you may even be able to learn how to use your magic on your own. Aright?"

As, one by one, the children gave their approval, the young Warlock grinned widely, thrilled at the fact that they were all so willing to trust him.

"Alright then, everyone, please close your eyes. Concentrate. Now imagine that you're shrinking. Smaller and smaller, getting more and more tiny, until you''re about the same size as a single ant or a grain of rice." He took a moment to make sure they were all complying. "Good. Very good. Now, imagine your tiny self sinking right into the centre of your real body. Search around. It may take a little while, but you should be able to find your power. It could be any colour, but it probably looks like a small ball of glowing light."

As they searched, Merlin kept an eye on their progress, with both his physical and his magical senses. Most of the children were doing surprisingly well, and for those who weren't he was able to provide a tiny nudge in the right direction without any of them actually realising that he was doing so. In this manner, it only took a few short minutes for every single one of them to have found their centre of power.

"Excellent," he beamed. "Now just stay focussed on that light. In a moment, I'll connect to each of you magically. Don't be afraid- just just me in. I won't completely take over- I'll just act as a guide of sorts. Ready?" He paused a moment. "Here I go."

Then, closing his eyes, Merlin sank once more into a world of glittering magic. A large portion of his mind fragmented, each shard moving swiftly but gently to link onto the power of each of the vessels. The children were surprisingly calm, each one welcoming him openly, so it was only a matter of moments before he had control.

And so the first stage was complete. To go any further than that right then was far too risky. So, instead of splitting his mind any further just yet, he instead took a moment to go over the plan once more. This wasn't like so many of his and Arthur's past adventures. There could be absolutely no more room for mistakes. A single slip-up, and Camelot was doomed.

Assured that he knew for definite how to progress, Merlin used the magical links to explain the very basics of what was going to happen to the children. Then, finally, he reached out with his mind to where, all those long months ago, Kilgarrah had been chained.

'_How are things going there?_'

'_Almost complete._' Michael's mental voice came back almost instantly. '_I just have to make the final join, and then the spell will start automatically. I'm just waiting for your signal.'_

_'Good. We're all set here, so start whenever you want. We'll be waiting for you.'_

_'Got it. Good luck.'_

Merlin gave the equivalent of a mental smile, allowing his gratitude to sink through the bond. '_You too. __Thanks for all your help._'

'_It's my honour. I shall join you soon, Merlin._'

Opening his eyes, but keeping his mind completely focussed, the young Warlock temporarily broke off his link to Michael, and instead spoke to the room at large.

"It's time."

Just as Arthur, Gwen and Kennard settled into their defensive positions, it started. A soft wave of magic emanated from the Dragon's former lair, rippling outwards so gently that it could have been mistaken for the lightest of summer breezes. Nevertheless, Merlin knew that Morgause, at least, would quickly realise what had happened. It would take a miracle for her not to notice the tethering spells disappearing from so many sets of clothing at once. They could only hope that details such as the location of origin would confuse her for a safe enough length of time for their counter-attack to become unstoppable.

Almost as soon as they had started, the ripples came to an abrupt end. Merlin quickly formed a vacuum in the magic around him- just about large enough for one small man. Three seconds passed with almost agonising slowness to his hyper-aware mind before the tell-tale sound of rushing winds announced Michael's arrival in the very spot the young Warlock had just prepared. It took only a second for the two to link their magics, and even less for Merlin to launch outwards mentally in all directions, commencing the attack.

There was no going back now.

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><p><strong>It's all kicking off for real now! Things over the next couple of chapters have a couple of moments I've had planned for absolutely <em>AGES<em>.**

**I was going to punish myself by asking you not to give any reviews whatsoever for this chapter, but I now realise that that would mean denying you a means to berate me for my horrendously long break from writing. So shoot. Just not literally. I don't want to die yet.**

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><p><strong>Ps. I wrote the following review reply back when the previous chapter was posted. I don't typically reply to anonymous reviews (although I definitely appreciate them), but this one felt important. So here goes (you don't have to read it):<strong>

Review Reply: Jacqs-

Thanks so much for the comment. I completely agree with you- Merlin never has seemed uncomfortable with the respect the Druids give him. I considered changing that bit slightly, but decided to keep it as is, the reason being that this is the first time he's been treated as such in front of others. In my eyes, especially after so long apart, right now it's important to him to have them see him as 'Merlin,' and not as a Lord, in a similar sort of way to how Arthur probably appreciates being called by his name sometimes, rather than by a title- titles have an annoying way of labelling people and placing them in a certain position. Also, I don't think he's seen as a Lord or a King to the Druids- as they only have elders- but rather as someone to be highly respected. Merlin, in my opinion, has never seemed to _like_ being treated as someone worthy of respect, as such, but rather the respect is something he acknowledges, and feels he has to earn. Plus, being treated with respect and being given a title out of the blue are two very different things.

I'm sorry if I've rambled a bit here. Thank you so much for taking the time to review, and I really appreciate your advice- under most other circumstances, I probably would have changed it, but this seems to me to be what fits with this particular time line. I hope my reasoning makes sense.


	28. Chapter 28

***Gasp* Back so soon! Yay! Told you I had the next chapter written. :P I was actually planning to post this once 29 was fully completed as well, but I just thought that you lovely, patient people deserved not to have to wait any more.**

**Thus, without further ado, I present to you chapter 28!**

**Discaimer: I don't own Merlin. It seems that if I did, the waits between series would have been longer than those for Sherlock. And that really wouldn't do. **

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><p><strong>Chapter 28<strong>

It was far from quiet in the throne room. Agonised screams ripped harshly though the hall, their echoes eliciting yet another smile from Morgause's lips. Morgana did so enjoy playing with her new toy. And Morgause did so enjoy seeing Morgana so happy. She couldn't recall a single incident in their months together in which her sister had smiled so much. It was almost sad, in a sense, that it had taken so tremendous a circumstance to bring about the action, but the Blonde could understand why. It must be liberating, to return to the place where one had for so long been nothing but a captive- trapped and forced to hide what made you who you were- only to upturn your former prison with the very power you had been forced to hide. Avalon only knew, it was thrilling enough for Morgause herself. For Morgana the pleasure must have been tenfold.

Closing her eyes momentarily, the Witch allowed herself the smallest of contented sighs. Magic was finally free, and all those who had tortured and persecuted her kind for so long were, at long last, going to be brought to justice- most of them, thanks to her spells, almost completely willingly. She wondered, briefly, what would be the best way to eventually dispose of Uther, once Morgana had had her fill of fun. Possibly by beheading? Or immersion in hot oil? Or maybe, as had been the case for so many magic-users through the years, he should be burned to death, shackled to a wooden pyre. Yes. That was the most fitting. She might even go one step further and force him to build the thing himself, before relishing in his expression as he burned without even a single one of his former subjects feeling any tangible emotion at all over his death. That would make the entire scene even more perfect. Not yet though. Killing him too soon would serve no real purpose. First things first- he had to suffer. It was only a shame that his son wasn't joining him.

Her eyebrow twitched in irritation at the thought of the Pendragon brat- even just the thought of his name was enough to leave a bad taste in her mouth. However much she had hidden it from her sister, it truly was galling that they had yet to find him. Even without his pet magician around, she was aware that the former Prince had a most annoying penchant for getting in the way. Their victory just wouldn't feel complete until they had captured him, and had him chained up and screaming alongside his tyrant of a father.

So intent was Morgause on thoughts of revenge that she almost didn't notice it. A slight shift in the magic around her- barely detectable, but there nonetheless. Hazel eyes snapped open, and the Blond cast a subtle eye over the room and it's inhabitants. Something had changed. She was sure of it. The only question was, what?

It took her almost a full minute to come to her conclusion, her piercing gaze settling upon one of the guards by the doors. Her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Sister!"

Striding purposefully over to the younger woman, Morgause used a firm but gentle grip to pull her disappointed sister from her fun, and drew her to one side.

"Sister. We have a problem."

Emerald eyes bore into her own.

"What is it?"

"The tethering spells," she hissed sharply. "Someone's removed the tethering spells." After all the work they had put into setting them up, the reinforcing enchantments were gone. Just like that.

Alarm sprouted instantly in the raven-haired woman's expression. "Arthur?"

"It can't be." Seeing her sister was about to protest, the sorceress hastened to continue. "Such an act would require a great deal of both magical knowledge and preparation. Not to mention an intimate understanding of how the enchantments worked. Even if Arthur _were_ involved, there is no possible way for him to have been able to act this quickly, not unless he has an extremely formidable ally. And if he did, surely we would have heard rumours indicating as such long before now."

Silence fell between the two for a moment, each of their minds whirring to come up with a solution. Unfortunately, a portion of their worry must have presented itself either on their faces or in one of their respective postures, because their thrice-accursed captive somehow managed to pick up on it.

"What's wrong?" He sneered hoarsely, smirking as the two sisters spun on their heels to face him. Through panting breathes he continued, lording it over them even in his current state. "Has something gone wrong with your supposedly '_perfect_' plan?"

Morgana quickly rose to the bait, eyes glinting with hate as she strode back towards him, enchanted finger raised threateningly.

"Shut up."

A shadow of hesitation flitted across Uther's gaze- something between wariness and some still-lingering form of affection for his daughter no doubt, but it was quickly suppressed. "After living here for so long, Morgana, did you honestly believe that Camelot would fall so easily? Impossi-"

His speech was cut abruptly short by a strangled scream, as his former ward jabbed him menacingly in the chest, sending yet another bolt of dark magic searing through his veins.

"I told you to shut up!"

Seeing that Morgana was about to truly lose her temper, Morgause took it upon herself to step forward and address the former King.

"Do not underestimate us, old man," she hissed. "We are still _far_ from defeated."

Uther battled past his exhaustion in order to lift his head, and looked her straight in the eye. Yet another infuriating sneer spread across those hateful features of his before, evidently unable to draw enough breath to speak once more, he instead settled for glaring at her disdainfully... and spitting at her feet.

It took all of Morgause's well-honed battle instincts to prevent Morgana from physically launching herself at the chained man. Pausing only to send a spear of dark energy stabbing into their insolent captive as punishment, Morgause dragged her sister from the room, using another bout of magic to slam the doors to behind them.

The younger woman struggled out of her grasp.

"Why did you stop me?" She demanded. "After what he did-"

"We cannot allow our tempers to control our judgement." Morgause interrupted, her own simmering fury still barely in check. "Uther is merely trying to distract us, and we cannot-under any circumstances- allow him to succeed."

"But-"

"We need to focus on solving the problem of who extinguished the tethering spells. Then, once that situation is solved-" she smiled darkly, "-Uther will be dealt the full force of the punishment he deserves."

It took a few seconds, but Morgana seemed to calm down enough to see the logic in her argument.

"Then what should we do?"

"You should order the people to search for signs of anything suspicious. I felt the original wave of magic. I'll attempt to track it back- find the source. Once we know where is came from," she smirked, "we can attack."

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><p>The world was aglow with magic. Innumerable threads of it spread out in every direction- countless hues of colour illuminating every corner of the kingdom, their shine deceptively bright for having such a dark purpose.<p>

Merlin spread just a hint of his power along each one, moving so subtly that none could have detected him, and drawing on the vessels' power to guide his path. By this point his mind was so segmented, and the concentration required so intense, that he only just had the ability to keep his physical body breathing. He was still vaguely aware of, and could see, the room around him, but was so involved in his task that he would have been incapable of moving even if he had tried.

He could sense that the witch-sisters had begun to move- as he had thought, it hadn't taken long at all for the elder of the two to detect the magical shift. With any luck, though, the traps he had set up would be sufficient to delay their arrival long enough for him to complete his work.

The set-up was almost complete. Only a little more to go now.

Almost there.

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><p>Morgause opened hazy eyes.<p>

"Found it."

"Where?"

"Below the castle. There's some kind of cavern down there. The magical signature seems to suggest that it's the centre of a runic system spread throughout the city. Whoever _did_ do this has probably been setting it up for days."

Perfectly sculpted eyebrows shot up in surprise. "What? How could we have missed something like that?"

"We let our guard down." The Blond stated, only now understanding just how much time and effort must have gone into such an attack. Whoever had done this wasn't going to waste any time. They probably had a lot more planned than just this. "We'll need to move fast if we want to stop them. Let's go."

Taking hold of her sister's arm, Morgause tugged her magic-enhancing stone from where it hung around her neck. Using it was the perfect way to preserve her magic should the need for battle arise.

"_Bedyrne us! Ástýre us __þanonweard._"

A rush of black wind appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and wrapped itself around the sisters until they were completely engulfed in a whirlwind of power. The two closed their eyes against the blast and, when next they opened them, found themselves balanced upon a ledge on a single outcrop of rock, located in the centre of a cave so large one could scarcely believe that such a place was located beneath a city such as Camelot.

What caught her attention, though, was not the cavern itself, but instead the large rune etched into the stone before her. She recognised the magical scent which lingered upon it.

"Michael."

Morgana was not yet trained in identifying the magic of others. "What about him?"

Hazel eyes narrowed in anger. "It seems there was a traitor at the heart of our operation all along."

The younger woman's expression quickly shifted to match her own. "How _dare_ he?"

Ignoring her sister's question, Morgause placed a single hand on the rune, concentrating on the traitor's magic. It hadn't been long since the spell was cast so, assuming the Ginger-haired man had transported himself out of the cavern, there should still be-

"Got it." Glancing at her sister, she allowed herself a small self-satisfied smirk. "There's a trail. But it's disappearing fast. We'll have to go now. When we arrive, you'll need to order the best fighters- both magical and non- to meet us there. There's no telling how many others are with him."

"Understood."

Determination blazing in their eyes, the two grasped arms, and were soon engulfed once more in a veritable tornado of energy.

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><p><strong>Uther really is epic. I hope you think so too, because I really do love that man (in a completely he-was-such-an-insanely-awesome-character type of way).<strong>

**And the time is close! The confrontation we've all been waiting for is almost upon us! It's so incredibly amazing in my head, so I really do hope I can do the scenes justice with my writing.**

**I guess that's it for today. 'See' you soon!**


	29. Chapter 29

**So here we are. The moment we've all been waiting for. This chapter turned out about twice as long as I thought it would, but it would have been impossible to stop any earlier. Besides, I doubt any of you will really mind the length. I've only just finished typing this up, so haven't proof-read it yet, but I was eager to get it up as soon as possible.**

**By the way, a big welcome to all of my new readers! I'm so glad you've all stumbled upon this humble little world of mine! **

**Please, please, please, please, pleeease leave me a review at the end of this one. I think it's probably a bit different to what everyone was expecting, so I really want to know what you think. You'll see why.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 29<strong>

Morgana's patience was running dangerously thin. She had never had much to begin with, and the current events were proving highly counter-productive to her attempts at remaining calm.

To think, the day had started off so well! After months and months of endless planning and preparation, their scheme had finally come to fruition. She was Queen, and highly enjoying the perks which came with the position.

Then some fool- a fool she had thought an ally, no less- had just _had_ to go and plot to ruin everything. Just her luck. And _then_, as if his only purpose in doing so was to spite her, when she and Morgause had attempted to transport themselves to the traitor's position, some sort of barrier had instead made them end up several corridors away, unable to get any closer unless on foot.

Since then, it had taken them five full minutes just to advance through three short corridors, together with three of their magical allies and a small cohort of mind-enslaved Knights. Whoever they were up against, they seemed to be almost able to rival her sister's power.

It was nothing short of mortifying.

Passing by a tapestry, she didn't even bother trying to hold back the small scream of frustration which erupted from her as their party was blown backwards a good two feet by a blast of magical wind.

Beside her, Morgause muttered a few words in the ancient language, causing the air around them to momentarily develop a slight sheen.

"There," the Blonde snapped. "That's another ward set up."

That made seven wards around their group in total, and _still_ some of the traps were finding ways around them. The problem, according to Morgause, was that each of the traps used such differing brands of magic that it was practically impossible to guard against every possibility. They could do little else but stay on guard. Her! Morgana! On guard against traps laid out within _HER OWN CASTLE_! Furious wasn't a strong enough word to describe how she felt. When she discovered the person behind all these frustrations, she was going to tear them limb from limb with her bare hands.

A near-deafening, high-pitched keening suddenly erupted, seemingly from one of the suits of armour which dotted her castle. Covering her ears, Morgana latched onto her anger, using it as a driving force for her magic. Lashing out furiously, she blasted the responsible armour to smithereens, grinning almost manically as the squealing instantly ceased.

She allowed herself a moment to relish in the looks of alarm which had sprouted upon the faces of her magical subjects as a result of her outburst. They often seemed to forget that, though barely trained, she herself had the potential to rival her sister in strength, and maybe even become a high priestess of the old religion. With the way she was feeling at that moment, they best not forget it again.

Turning on her heel, the raven-haired woman pressed on, her sister matching her pace step for step.

And so it continued- battling winds, fires, an indoor miniature blizzard and even suits of armour come to life- until, finally, they arrived at the entrance to their goal. Morgana studied the well-crafted wooden door before her, for once listening to the inner voice which told her that something was wrong. If she squinted, she could almost see a faint golden sheen coating both the door and the walls surrounding it.

"Is this what I think it is?" She questioned, turning to the Blonde beside her.

"The original barrier," agreed Morgause. "And it doesn't look like it will be easy to break. We shall have to proceed carefully, or we may even end up being sent away again."

"Shall I help?"

A quick shake of the head. "This is delicate work, sister. It requires a finesse brought about only by years of training and expertise." She turned to their three subjects, regarding them with an appraising eye. "Merek, Cedany. I believe the two of you shall suffice. Come."

After a hasty reply of "Yes, my Lady," the two joined Morgause at the door, Morgana stepping back to give them room to work, whilst she, Tevin and the mesmerised Knights watched. The three of them raised their arms in unison, hands hovering just a hair's breadth away from grazing the solid oak panels, and slowly reached out with their minds until the entire exterior of the chamber they were trying to reach was completely encompassed. Little did any of them know, at that time, that the strength and complexity of the barrier was such that, even with all three skilled magic users working with as much haste as the situation allowed them, it would take them almost three full minutes to break through. Three minutes where every second was wasting critical time...

Morgana really was going to enjoy killing the culprits.

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><p>He heard them coming. It was hard not to, really, considering the amount of noise they made whilst fighting through Merlin's last trap (a pile of ropes enchanted to have the same characteristics as deadly snakes, if he remembered correctly)- most people could have heard them coming a mile off. But most people weren't Knights of Camelot, trained to detect enemies blindfolded and estimate numbers relying on hearing alone. Kennard locked gazes briefly with Arthur.<p>

"Ten?"

The Prince (he refused to think of him as anything but) nodded once, a tight smile dancing briefly on his lips, before turning back to the door.

"That's what I thought too."

Ten enemies. Against two Knights and the daughter of a blacksmith. Ordinarily, Kennard would have said that they had a decent chance. But among those ten would be Morgana, Morgause, and who knew how many sorcerers. The young Knight took a moment to steady his nerves. This was going to be tough.

His eyes flitted once more to the centre of the room, where Merlin was still lost in a worlds of magic. The Warlock truly was an awe-inspiring sight- eyes open and blazing with a golden fire, and thrumming with so much energy that he was actually vibrating with it. The circles he had created glowed blue, casting the young man in an ethereal light and making him- for once- appear to be what he actually was- a creature of magic with potential leagues beyond what any of them could imagine even in their wildest dreams.

It was almost impossible to look away, but Kennard force himself to nonetheless. As incredible a sight as it was, he couldn't allow himself to be distracted from their task. The fact that Merlin was still in that state meant that Camelot was still enchanted. And with the enemy about to break through that door, it was their job- his, Guinevere's and Arthur's- to hold the invading forces back until Merlin's counter-attack was complete.

With this thought in mind, he turned his entire focus on the door. It had gone completely silent on the other side, which couldn't surely couldn't be a good sign. In a situation such as this, silence could only mean one thing.

Just a short time later (although every second to pass felt like an eternity), it finally happened. A twisted sort of cracking sound reverberated throughout the room, seeming to emanate from everywhere at once, and the slightest of tremors engulfed the large wooden door.

Barely a single moment passed before the door slammed open, almost flying off it's hinges thanks to the tremendous magical force behind the event. Then in strode the Witch-Queen and her thrice-cursed sister, flanked by three plain-clothed citizens (sorcerers, most likely), and five fully-armed Knights. To his utter dismay, he saw both Mordon and Leon in the group, together with Sirs Kolby, Garrett and Quentin. His own brother, together with four more of Camelot's best fighters. The task was seeming more impossible by the second.

The trio didn't attack straight away. Acting on the fact that the sisters were unaware of Merlin's- of Emrys'- survival, they instead allowed the invaders time to take in the scene before them. The hope was that- however unlikely it may be- they would be so shocked by what the scene before them that they would be unable to attack without first confirming that what they saw was indeed the truth.

The technique seemed to be proving effective. The unknown sorcerers appeared too awed to do much of anything other than stare, and the sisters' victorious smirks were quickly shifting into an odd blend of shock, confusion and cold, hard fury. Morgana actually looked like she was about to be sick.

They stood for a moment, mouths opening and closing like those of goldfish as they struggled to find any words. If the situation had seen less serious, Kennard might have laughed. Something Arthur (though whether it was real or not he had no idea) actually did.

The unexpected sound was enough to shake the women from their reverie, both turning to glare daggers at the Prince.

"What's the matter?" The Blond laughed, showing not even a glimmer of fear. "You look like you weren't expecting that."

Morgana snarled viciously, appearing for a moment to be almost feral. "He's supposed to be dead!"

"Did you honestly think that someone as infuriatingly stubborn as Merlin would be killed off so easily?" Arthur scoffed, his expression turning serious as he studied the young woman he had grown up with. "You really have changed, haven't you." It wasn't a question. "I had hoped the day would never come when I would have to treat you as an enemy."

"Surprised?"

"No." The Blond paused. "Just... disappointed. When Merlin informed me of your magic, I had hoped that you would be strong enough to move past your fear and use your position to change the Kingdom's opinions- to help me in bringing about Albion." Blue eyes bore into green. "It seems my hopes were in vain."

For a split second, Morgana almost looked like she was going to concede. But the faint glimmer she showed was gone in an instant, replaced first by fear, then desperation, and finally anger.

"And in exchange, I suppose you would have wanted me to work alongside that monster." She gestured wildly towards Merlin. "He poisoned me! He tried to kill me! Your precious _Merlin_ is nothing more than a lying traitor who'll quite happily murder those whom he calls friends as long as it suits his purpose!"

Something within Arthur seemed to snap, and he glared at Morgana with a barely-restrained fury Kennard had never seen before glinting in eyes which were as cold as ice, and yet simultaneously burned with the passion of a raging furnace.

"Don't you ever say that again," he ordered, enunciating each and every word with perfect clarity. "When you have no idea how much that decision tortured him. It was you or the Kingdom, Morgana! One life, however dear, must never be allowed to outweigh the lives of so many. And he would never have had to make the decision in the first place had your precious sister's spell not forced his hand!"

Morgana only needed a second to get over her sock at the Prince's outburst.

"You will not," she threatened, "blame _his_ actions on Morgause. She has been a better family to me these past months than our father ever was!"

Silence. You could have heard a pin drop as the trio slowly registered what the Witch had said. Kennard took it upon himself to speak, as the other two seemed unable to process the implications of her words as quickly as he had.

"Our? You mean..."

He took a moment to properly study the woman before him. Green eyes, strong features and an aura he had only seen in a handful of people before. There certainly were distinct similarities.

"Is Uther your..."

The Witch seemed to feel that she had finally gained some aspect of control over the situation, her earlier victorious expression creeping back in as she observed their reactions to her words.

"You didn't know, did you?" She taunted. "To think- you've been going through all this effort to reclaim the Kingdom. And it's all for a man who's been lying through his teeth for years! It seems the father you admire so whole-heartedly isn't as infallible as your thought, Arthur. He's nothing more than an arrogant tyrant trying to hide his crimes from the world."

The entire room went deathly silent once more as everyone watched for the Prince's reaction. Kennard couldn't help the burst of sympathy which shot through him as he eyed the Blond. The older man's head was bowed, his arms hung limply by his sides, and on the hand not holding his sword the fingers were twitching in a manner which suggested that they couldn't decide whether to form a fist or not.

Guinevere seemed to feel something similar, as she placed a tentative hand on the Prince's shoulder, only to have him gently remove it.

"Arthur?"

Head snapping up, the older man fixed his newly-discovered sister with a steady gaze, and Kennard was surprised to find only a hint of betrayal in their cerulean depths.

"I can only imagine how much his actions over the past months have been influenced by you two. But if there is anything that they, along with what happened with Merlin, have taught me, it is that my- our- father is far from infallible. It's hardly surprising- he is only human, after all. But what you don't seem to realise is that none of us here are doing this for him. We do this because the people have a right to chose what paths they themselves will walk. You have no right to take those choices from them. You called Uther a tyrant, but who would never have even considered doing that you have. I ask you then, what does that make you?"

Both sisters were close to breaking point now- Kennard could easily see it in the widening of their eyes and the tightening of the muscles around their jaws. Morgause had placed a hand on Morgana's arm, and the dark-haired Knight would have bet his life that this gentle touch was the only thing preventing the younger of the two from attempting to blast them into ashes. But for some reason, the Prince didn't stop there. Instead, his expression shifted to one of mock-thoughtfulness.

"Come to think of it, you used the fact that he's your father as proof of his fallibility..."

Suddenly, as though lightening had struck his mind, Kennard realised what Prince was doing. He couldn't believe he hadn't worked it out sooner. All of the witches' anger and attention was focussed on him and him alone. He was forcing them to almost forget Merlin's presence completely!

"...then that means that, in a way, you're calling yourself just another of his mistakes."

That did it. In a flash of anger, Morgana's eyes flared gold, and the fire of the torch closest to Arthur momentarily tripled in size.

Then, suddenly, the battle had begun. Kennard could hear some of the children whimpering towards the other end of the hall, but not a single one stepped outside of their respective circles. The young Knight quickly shifted into a position which would best shield the fighting from their eyes, moving his sword smoothly up to parry a strike aimed at his ribs. Whilst concentrating on blocking blow after blow, watching for a chance to counter, the back of his mind dimly registered that Garrett's strikes were more sluggish than usual, lacking in both the speed and the power they normally possessed. It seemed that the enchantments' control was still having an effect on the mens' fighting prowess.

Darting forward, he slammed the pommel of his sword into Garrett's helmet, then ducked down just in time to avoid the blade which had been about to slice into his neck form behind. Spinning around, Kennard found his next opponent to be Leon. But the older Knight wasn't alone. Two of the sorcerers- a mousey looking woman and a man he recognised from their near miss in the dungeons- lurked behind him, muttering words in the ancient language. Their presence alone was bound to make this fight several times more troublesome than the first.

Just as Leon's sword rushed towards him once more, Kennard dropped to the floor, unable to hold back a shocked cry as what felt like ice-cold knives were driven through his knees. It took him a moment to realise that the pain wasn't actually coming from anything physical, and he rolled to one side, gritting his teeth against the invisible injury while at the same time avoiding a downward swing from Leon's blade.

As the roll carried him to his feet, Kennard caught a glimpse of the others in the room. Guinevere appeared to be just about holding her own against Kolby and Quentin. Arthur was darting about, dodging attack after attack from the sisters. The final sorcerer was in the corner, seemingly whispering something over a box of some sort he had clutched in his hands. And Mordon... Mordon was heading his way.

The young Knight backed up a few steps, trying to ignore the stabbing pain in his knees. It was creeping outwards now, spreading to encompass more of his legs and becoming even more agonising as it did so.

The children were no longer behind him, but to his left, eyes wide with fear as they watched the battle unfold.

To top it off, coupled with the spells of the duo of sorcerers, he now also had to contend with two Knights who, even while enchanted, were no doubt skilled enough to cause him to plenty of trouble. The only way he was going to be able to manage this was by moving as fast as possible.

Clearing his mind of anything but his own battle, Kennard leapt towards Leon- the closest of the two Knights- and began executing a flurry of attacks, moving faster and faster as he drove the man back step by step. Then, spotting the perfect moment, he feinted to the right, while at the same time slamming one armoured fist into the older man's jaw. His body instinctively followed the motion through, leaping past the now-unconscious Leon and towards the pair of sorcerers.

What he hadn't anticipated, though, was that the proximity would cause the pain in his legs to double while he was in the air. Upon landing his legs buckled beneath him, another spell flinging his sword from his grip in the same instant. He landed on his back, his own weapon out of reach and Mordon's cutting through the air towards him.

In a rush of panic, the young Knight automatically recalled Merlin's earlier instructions to the vessels. As he reached for the ball of power he had been told was inside him, a rush of comforting warmth filled his veins and he concentrated only on the notion of 'pushing.' In that instant, a blast of power erupted from him, sending both Mordon and the sorcerers flying and slamming them into one of the walls with a resounding 'crack.'

It was only when he tried to move that he realised that the blast had come just a second too late. He stared in horror at the sword which had just sliced through his armour, sinking deep into his gut. Blood had begun to well out instantly, and as his vision began to dim, the last thing he was aware of was Mordon stirring, wounded and bleeding from the head, his eyes finally clearing as he took in what he had done to his brother.

As ice spread like poison through his veins, Kennard forced himself to smile. He had done his best, and his brother was free. What more could he ask for?

Then, with that final thought, the world went black.


	30. Chapter 30

**...Please don't hate me...**

**Disclaimer: There's probably a reason I don't own Merlin...**

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><p><strong>Chapter 30<strong>

Right. Left. Right. Duck. Roll. Duck. Jump. Left.

The words were like a mantra in his mind- a blend of conscious thought, intuition and physical instinct which was the only thing standing between Arthur and what would have been certain death for anyone without the level of magical protection he himself possessed. He was reluctant to depend on that protection though- partly through a desire to keep such a fact from his current enemies for as long as possible, partly as a test of his own abilities, and partly because of a fear that even small drains on Merlin's magic may have a negative impact on the Warlock's task.

Hence the near-acrobatic display he was now performing.

Fortunately, his earlier taunts meant that the sisters were so blinded by fury that their attacks were uncoordinated and (especially in Morgana's case) irrational. Nonetheless, they had still succeeded in giving him a rather painful burn to his right calf, and his vision was being restricted by the blood trickling from a cut above his left eye.

He dreaded to think how much more dangerous his opponents could have been were they thinking logically.

Left. Jump. Roll. Right. Right. Duck. Back. Left.

Morgause was calming herself, beginning to time her attacks to match those of Morgana.

Right. Back. Jump. Jump. Left. Right. Left. Back.

The better timing was making the dual attacks harder to avoid. A razor sharp blade of wind managed to nick his left ear.

Back. Duck. Roll. Left. Jump. Left. Back. Roll.

He was being given absolutely so opportunity to do anything other than dodge. And, to top it all off, he was being slowly but surely driven backwards, closer and closer to the solid brick wall behind him.

Suddenly, towards the opposite wall, he heard several loud thuds and a rather nasty-sounding crack. Morgause seemed to have sensed something strange, because she cast a quick, confused glance over her shoulder, Morgana following suit. Arthur took the chance to dive forwards, intending to gain back some ground. But the move granted him an unintentional view of the rest of the small battlefield...

...and the perfect vantage point to watch as Kennard's head dropped back to meet the floor.

The Prince was no stranger to watching his men die. It was a sad fact that such events were bound to happen in the life of a Knight. But the fact that Kennard's wound had been inflicted by one of their own (by the Knight's own brother, the automatically analytical part of his mind provided unhelpfully) made this particular incident seem ten times worse.

His mind suddenly blank, Arthur darted forward, barely even noticing as his shield flared into life. He was on his knees in mere moments, reaching forward to place two fingers against his fallen comrade's neck. His body tensed as Mordon crawled shakily to his side, but relaxed when he realised that the older man showed no sign of still being under the Witches' control.

It took a few seconds- his shield flickering into existence once again as the sisters launched yet more attacks in his direction- but he managed to find it. Fluttering weakly beneath layers of skin.

"A pulse."

He turned to Mordon, fierce expression snapping the other man out of his post-enchantment haze (though how that could be the case he had no idea, as Kolby and Quentin were still battling Guinevere).

"Take care of this."

Leaving Kennard in his brother's capable hands, Arthur stood, eyes blazing with righteous fury as he turned to survey his adversaries once more.

Morgause was the first to break the silence between them.

"What is the meaning of this?" She demanded, blatantly not talking (or even caring) about the fact that, unless urgent medical attention was provided extremely soon, she would be responsible for the death of his comrade. "I have never seen, nor even heard of, a shield like yours before."

The Prince's answering glare was so sharp that he actually succeeded in forcing her mouth shut as a result.

"That's because you've never seen a magic like Merlin's before."

The words had barely escaped his lips when he realised, with dawning horror, that it was quite possibly the worst thing he could have said. After all the effort which had gone into distracting the sisters from their original aim, he had just opened his big mouth and reversed it all in an instant.

He was about to say something- anything- in an attempt to counter his mistake, but was halted by the abrupt appearance of Michael by his side.

"What are you-"

"Thought you could do with some help." The older man shot him a wry sidelong smile, before turning his attention back to their enemies and slipping into what must have been the sorcerous equivalent of a warrior's defensive stance.

"But-" The Prince's eyes darted briefly towards Merlin. As far as he was aware, the process required all of the vessels- Michael included- to remain in place within their respective circles. A terrifying thought struck him- could the use of his shield have had enough of an impact as to render their counter-attack useless?

Michael seemed to be able to detect his growing guilt. "Don't worry," he whispered, lowering his voice so that only Arthur would hear. "Merlin's finished the preparations. Which means that we're now free to move as we wish, as long as we don't do getting ourselves killed before he's finished. He should be able to start the final stage any moment now."

Before Arthur had a chance t reply, a movement on Morgana's part had both he and Michael diving as fast as they could across the room. Desperation fuelled their movements, providing them with enough speed that they just about managed to position themselves in time to block the path of a vicious attack aimed towards the children (who had been shuffling almost undetected away from the fighting and closer to the furthest end of the room). Michael's hastily-constructed protective spell only just managed to hold, and his shield shone brighter than it ever had before. Morgana may not have had much training, but she definitely had power- even with his tattoo's protection, he was still forced back a good foot.

"What are you doing?" He demanded of Morgana, appalled at this proof of just how much the boisterous young woman he had grown up with had changed. "I thought you needed them alive!"

A calculated smirk was the only answer he received, and he realised with horror that this was exactly what she had been aiming for. He and Michael. Too far away to protect the single most important person to their plan.

He tried to move. Or course he did. Even if the chances were slim that he'd be able to get to Merlin in time, he still had to try.

But all his efforts were in vain.

With growing trepidation, Arthur forced himself to look down. His feet and lower legs were encased in some sort of transparent gloop. Following it with his eyes, he saw that Michael was in an even worse situation. The gloop extended outwards from Arthur, and the rest of it had wrapped itself around the sorcerer, covering his entire body and most of the lower half of his head. By the looks of it, the red-head would barely even breathe, let alone move, or even speak. The two of them had effectively been rendered completely useless to the battle.

It was with a sort of morbid that he studied the substance, taking a moment to wonder where it had come from. It was pulsing- almost like it was _breathing_. Was it possible that this stuff was actually _alive_? Was Camelot's doom really going to occur because of a single, strange, goo-like creature?

Morgause obviously believed so, because she seemed to suddenly be hit by an overwhelming need to gloat.

"Did you happen to forget," she sneered, "that certain magic-users are able to communicate- and therefore plan- telepathically? If we can't kill you, then it's common sense to instead capacitate you so that we can instead deal with the poisoning wretch who is the source of your protection. And Merek here-" she gestured towards the final sorcerer- the man who, Arthur now realised, had not yet fought in the battle, and who had an open box grasped firmly in his hands- "is highly skilled in such work. I hope you like his little pet."

Arthur tried to raise his sword, intending, if he couldn't do anything else, to at least throw the blade at the sorceress, but the slightest of twitches from Merek's fingers had the gloop-creature wrenching it from his hands. The weapon lay abandoned on the floor, completely useless now that it was out of his reach.

"Now," the Blonde before him continued, undeterred by his efforts to end her life, "I believe it is time to put a stop to this ridiculous plan of yours once and for all."

She raised a hand, palm facing towards Merlin, and uttered something indecipherable in the ancient language.

There was nothing Arthur could do but watch as a ball of white-hot flames launched itself at the first real friend he had ever had.

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><p>It was becoming harder and harder to remain in control. Indeed, were it not for the fact that he was so determined to achieve their goal, Merlin was sure he would long ago have lost all sense of his own identity. For each thread he wrapped his magic around, it was as though he could sense the individual that particular thread suppressed- each one reaching out to him, calling to him. Almost every single citizen of Camelot was haunting his every move as they begged him, crying out for the freedom they so craved.<p>

It was heart-breaking.

Tuning out the voices was quite possibly the hardest thing he had ever had to do. Their circumstances may have been different, but he could do easily relate to the peoples' dilemma that it would have been the easiest thing in the world to simply allow them to drag him under, to let them drown him in the sea on loneliness which he had so fervently ignored over the course of the past few months. But instead he fought on, coating more and more threads with his power until, eventually, he had each and every one surrounded. And at last the end was in sight.

Then he began to withdraw. Making sure, as he went along, that his magic stayed firmly in place, he began to slowly but steadily piece his mind back together in preparation for the final stage. One thought, though, he sent back first, informing Michael that it was now safe to move, and asking him to lend a hand in the battle. He had watched- as though in slow motion, the details had been so painfully clear- as Kennard had fallen, but had been completely powerless to lend any assistance. Sending the older sorcerer was the only form of defence he could offer.

Then things took a turn for the worse. The witches tried to attack the children. Some strange creature he had never seen nor heard of before emerged from the box held by one of the sorcerers- he could have sworn he felt a tug on his jacket as it passed him- and, from what he could make out, somehow incapacitated Arthur and Michael.

Then, at long last, his mind was whole again. He withdrew into his own body just as Morgause finished her sadistic gloating. But yet he remained immobile- there was still one more step to take before he would be able to get his body to move. The thread were still visible to him, connected as they were, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that, even if he managed to break them in time, it would be completely impossible for him to put up a shield before the spell the Witch was beginning to cast hit him.

He was going to die.

But his resignation to this fact did absolutely nothing to assuage his determination. Instead, it only served to strengthen it. His life may well be lost here. But Camelot's people deserved their freedom- there was no way on Earth that he was going to allow Morgana and Morgause to win.

Thus it was that, with mere seconds to spare as he watched the fireball flying towards him, Merlin gathered his power ready for the final act of his life. Not even really registering the insistent pulling he could feel on his jacket, he managed to move just his eyes so that they were fixed on Morgause's, and then sent out the strongest wave of magic he had ever used in his life, using the coating he had left behind as an anchor and a guide. The power passed through the threads in an instant, engulfing the entire network at once and snapping each one simultaneously.

His task complete, Merlin felt his body began to slump. With little more than a heartbeat before the attack landed, he knew that he had no chance of defending himself. Nevertheless, he was determined to at least try.

But he was too late.

Before he could so much as react, a small shape darted from his side, taking the full force of the attack in his place.

He could only stare in shock as Aveline's lifeless body collapsed to the floor.


	31. Chapter 31

***Dons a customised version of Arthur's tattoo***

**Hi there... yeah... I seem to have done some damage to peoples' hearts with that last chapter... Apologies for being slightly late with this one- peskychesk arrived in Japan on Saturday (school holidays have started) so, in true celebration of our first chance to be truly touristy in the country we both love so much... we spent most of yesterday watching Sherlock. Lol.**

**Although I think I'm still okay for this fic being a T, I have been advised that I should probably include a little graphic warning here. I'm fine with such stuff, but any readers with more... delicate constitutions may be slightly disturbed by some scenes in this particular chapter. Sorry...**

**I will try to continue with a chapter a week during the holidays, but there are certain days where I'll have to work (English camps and a speech contest), so there is a chance of small delays during the coming month. But fear not- peskychesk herself is reading this now, so I highly doubt she'll let me go long without updating. She's rather fond of my OCs in this story... Oops...**

**(Also, apologies for any faults- haven't had time to read over it yet. Was too eager to post.)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 31<strong>

The flames struck on the left, hissing and spitting sparks as they tore indiscriminately through material, skin and hair alike. They were gone in a flash, fleeing before the tiny body had even completed it's painful arc through the air, but the evidence left behind made it easy enough to imagine the excruciating torment which Aveline had experienced in the last moment of her young life.

By the time she hit the floor, her entire left side was completely unrecognisable. Gone were her sparkling eye and her brunette locks. In their place, instead, was charred and blackened flesh. Sparks had torn into her body, burning right through at such speed that it was actually possible to see glimpses of the tattered remnants of some of the young girl's still-smoking organs. And her limbs could barely even be identified as such, whittled away as they were to brittle bones.

But the worst of it all was not the decimation, but rather the side of her face which was still intact. There was no hint of the quirky character Aveline had held in life. None. Instead, her expression was twisted into a determined sort of agony- the image of someone who had volunteered themselves for the most painful of tortures, and knew that they had paid the ultimate price for their choice.

And as her one good eye stared up at Merlin, he knew without a doubt that this exact moment would haunt him for the rest of his life.

The Warlock could count on one hand the amount of times he had truly given in to unadulterated anger. The last time he had, Nimueh had ended up as mere ashes, strewn across the Isle of the Blessed as punishment for her atrocities. He had sworn then never to allow it to happen again. But, as he tore his eyes away from the form before him and slowly inched them up to take in Morgause's expression, he felt himself coming dangerously close.

The Witch looked shocked for all of two seconds. The the shock faded away, to be replaced by precisely the kind of angry annoyance which told Merlin that the only thing she regretted was that her spell had not succeeded in doing the same to him.

He would have snapped. He really would. Were it not for the fact that he suddenly remembered just who was behind him.

He glanced back for a single second. But that second was more than enough. A mix of shock and desperation was the first thing he noticed, followed by the way the older man struggled almost subconsciously against his bonds, in a futile attempt to reach his daughter.

Instinctively knowing that it would take time to wrest control of the creature binding his friends, Merlin instead fixed the final sorcerer- Merek, was it?- with a pointed glare and, allowing his anger to seep through into his voice, confronted him with a power and authority capable of controlling even Dragons.

"Release them."

In a moment of mercy (or possibly fear- he couldn't really bring himself to care which) Merek actually obeyed, and the creature withdrew across the room, slithering back across the floor and shrinking into the box it had been summoned from.

Michael was past him in a flash, falling to his knees at his daughter's side with a painful thud. He stared at her for a moment, eyes wide and glimmering with unshed tears, before reaching out with a shaky hand to slowly trace it down her one unblemished cheek.

The action, though gentle, was enough to cause Aveline's head to drop further, giving the children huddled at the end of the room a perfect view of the devastating damage Morgause's spell had caused. Muffled cries erupted from the group as eldest of them relinquished their previous efforts to calm the younger ones, finally giving in to the fear they had been bottling up for so long.

Seeing that Gwen was now free from her fight, Merlin quickly met her eyes. The two rather over-whelmed looking Knights beside her were ignored in favour of an unspoken conversation before the young serving girl, nodding her understanding, darted, unseen, across the room and behind their enemies' backs, hastening towards the distraught group. As soon as she reached them, Merlin conjured up an opaque golden shield between them and the rest of the room's occupants. He was entrusting Gwen with the task of calming the children's nerves, and at least this way he knew that any further incidents would be hidden from their view.

Then, barely thirty seconds after having regained control of his body, Merlin found himself stepping forward, with Arthur at his side and with eyes fixed firmly on the murderous duo before them. The two must obviously have realised by now that their vile web had been ripped to shreds. Whether they chose to continue fighting or not was entirely up to them now. Whichever option they chose, though, it didn't change the fact that the time was well past due for this whole sorry situation to be brought to it's no doubt bitter conclusion.

They were brought to an abrupt halt when Michael's head snapped up, eyes glinting with a hatred and anger which, in that precise moment, reached to the very depths of his soul. If looks could kill, Morgause would have died thrice over in that instant.

"You..." he snarled, jumping up to stand protectively in front of Aveline's prone form. "You will pay for this."

Then he started chanting And while the spell was entirely unfamiliar to him, Merlin knew enough of the ancient language that his understanding of it's purpose sent a shiver or horror through his veins. Relying on instinct alone, he reached out in desperation, stretching a hand out first to block the attack which Morgause had launched in retaliation, before then completely engulfing Michael with his magic.

It was only once the action was complete that he realised that the spell he had cast had been a silencer. Michael would still be able to access his magic, but without speech there was no way he would be able to attempt such a complex working as the one he had originally intended.

As the full force of the red-head's glare turned on him, Merlin only just managed to restrain himself from flinching under the weight of accusation those grief-filled eyes bore.

"I'm sorry!" The young Warlock pleaded, begging the older man to understand. "But I couldn't let you- Not like that... Not-"

He was interrupted by Arthur barrelling into his side, knocking him out of the way (and almost off his feet) as a spear of green-tinged flames shot past his shoulder.

"Save it for later," the Prince ordered. "We've got to end this quickly before another life is lost!"

Merlin's eyes automatically flicked to the side, towards where Mordon was gradually losing his desperate battle to stem the flow of the blood seeping from his brother's wound. The harsh reminder of their situation was more htan enough to force his attention back to the battle. Taking a deep breath, he turned his back on Michael and faced the Witch sisters once more.

Now was the perfect time to take advantage of the full height his gangly limbs provided. Standing tall, he glared down at Morgause, unwilling to look Morgana in the eye out of fear that he would be unable to spy even a glimpse of the woman who used to be his friend. Or maybe in case he _was_ able to. He wasn't really sure which option seemed worse.

"Leave." He demanded, raising a hand towards them in warning, and ignoring the protests Michael was projecting into his thoughts. "Leave this city. Leave this Kingdom. And never try to harm any of it's citizens again. If you go now..." He paused, hating himself for finding it so difficult to bring himself to utter the next words. "Then I promise not to harm you. Leave. And never return."

There was barely even a moment's pause before the two women snapped back in retaliation.

"Never."

"Then you leave me no choice." Finally, Merlin's eyes met those of Morgana, and as her lips twisted into an ugly sneer her allowed himself one last farewell to the woman she had been before. "Goodbye."

And then it was chaos. Attack after attack rained down on the young Warlock. And without time to put up a permanent shield, he was instead left with no option other than to block each one individually. His only reprieves came when Michael, still unable to speak, settled instead for sending pulses of raw energy in Morgause's direction, disrupting her own blows as she fought to counter his.

Arthur, too, was doing his part. In a cruel mimic of one of Merlin's own traps, the sisters- or possible Merek- had, at some point within the flurry of activity, managed to create an immense snake out of ice. The ice was reforming rapidly after each blow the Prince struck, but he was still managing somehow to keep the beast occupied enough that it was unable to go after another target.

Even Kolby and Quentin seemed to have finally come to their senses. Quentin was on his knees, assisting Mordon with Kennard, and Kolby was battling his way through a puddle of water (formed when Merlin had countered yet another fireball with a wave of water, multiplied from what had been in his flask), seemingly intending to assist his struggling Monarch. The feat was made more difficult by the fact that the water was wrapping itself around his ankles, and appeared to be trying to drag him to his knees.

A wave of purplish fog suddenly erupted from Merek's direction, bursting forth from a broken vial at the stocky man's feet. An urgent warning in his head was all the warning Merlin got to create a filter around his airways before the mist engulfed him completely. It's poison instantly began to tear into his skin, etching crimson rashes onto his pale flesh.

"_S__cúr._"

The water from the floor instantly relinquished it's grip on it's victim, instead springing up to drench the young Warlock from head to toe. As the torrent of droplets succeeded in dampening the noxious fumes, he swept a hand across his face and back through his hair, halting the liquid's process as it trickled towards his eyes. Blurry vision was the _last_ thing he needed right at that moment in time.

Even clear vision, however, could give him no piece of mind. Instead, it only meant that he was free to watch as Morgause, evidently not above resorting to dirty tactics, used the break in Michael's attacks as he too defended against the gas to stride towards the trio of Knights on the floor. A wave of her hand blasted Quentin backwards as he lifted his sword in defence. As her gleeful expression met Merlin's horrified one, taunting him even through the chaos still occurring throughout the room, her intent was perfectly clear.

'These are my hostages,' her eyes were stating clearly. 'Surrender, or I will kill them without a second thought.'

He knew it was true. He had seen evidence enough of how ruthless the Blond could be when she truly wished. But the harsh truth of it was that he couldn't allow himself to be swayed. She seemed to have forgotten that his loyalty towards Camelot had been tested many times before. And there was little he wouldn't sacrifice of himself to ensure that Camelot had the chance to thrive and become the Kingdom he and Arthur envisioned as it's future. His choice regarding Morgana was evidence enough of his determination regarding that cause. There was no way he could turn back now. Even if it meant that the three Knights were lost. If he gave up now, then Aveline's sacrifice truly would have no meaning.

At the thought of Avelines, he could feel anger filling him once again. But this time the anger was aimed a himself. It was _his _fault that she was dead. _He_ was the one who hadn't been fast enough. _He_ was the one who had failed to protect her. And _he_ was the one whose duty it was to make sure nothing of the sort happened again. There was no point in considering that the Knights might die. He just had to be strong enough and fast enough to make sure they wouldn't be at risk.

He had tried showing the sisters mercy, and they had refused.

Now it was time to end this.

"Enough!" He roared, both verbally and mentally. And the pure force of his yell was enough to completely halt all activity in the room, forcing the enemy sorcerers to clutch at their heads in pain and shattering the ice snake into smithereens. Taking full advantage of the momentary lull in the fighting, a shimmering veil of a barrier sprung up around the Knights and around himself. It wouldn't last long. But it allowed him more than enough time to utter just a single word.

"_Á__stence_."

His eyes met those of Morgause just before a whirling plume of dust completely enveloped her. Then each speck scattered, transforming the dust into a tornado of minuscule points, each one thin and sharp enough that they almost seemed able to rent holes in the very air itself. Each point darted into action without warning, piercing through the Blond sorceress at lightning speed. Unlike her own attacks, they left no outward sign of their destruction, but all who witnessed the event held no doubt in their minds that her insides had been completely and utterly decimated. Time almost seemed to slow as she dropped to the floor, mouth open in what had been her last futile attempt one last curse, and she was lost to the world.

Even as she fell, a piercing scream rang through the air.

"NO!"

In a scene eerily reminiscent of the one witnessed such a brief time before, Morgana dropped to her sister's side and placed a single hand on the older woman's cheek. Upon receiving no response, she instead resorted to shaking the Blond by her shoulder.

"Morgause? Morgause!"

When, after several seconds, she still could not elicit a reaction, the raven-haired woman seemed to collapse in on herself, green eyes closing in anguish as she cradled the head of her fallen companion in her lap.

Merlin looked on with pity. He could never have imagined it would come to this- actually destroying the life of someone he had cared about by his own hand. But, regardless of whether or not it had been Morgana's own decisions which had brought them to this point, he had undoubtedly played his part. There was no way she would ever return to them now. No way she would ever forgive him for what he had done.

He wasn't sure he deserved her forgiveness anyway.

As she lifted her face, features twisted with fury and grief, he knew that he had just killed any link Morgana had still had to her former self.

Without warning she launched herself to her feet, magic forgotten as she leapt towards him, clawed fingers outstretched as though she was intending to throttle him with her bare hands.

Merlin was just raising own hands in defence, when another reached out of nowhere to grasp hold of Morgana's wrist. Merek barely took a moment to fix each of their party in the eye before, box held in one hand and Morgana in the other, he hissed the words of the transportation spell... and promptly vanished.

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><p><strong><em>S<em>_cúr_- Rain (specifically, torrential)**

**_Á__stence-_ Scatter**

**Please do review if you have the time. It pleases me to no end to know that people are reading and enjoying(?) this series. And as much as I truly do love my lurkers and those who have favourited this fic, there truly is nothing quite like a review to get the creative juices flowing. I won't force you though- I know I myself have been a lurker for several fics in the past.**


	32. Chapter 32

**Hi... So, yeah... There was another wait. I'm really sorry about that- the second half of this chapter gave me a lot of trouble during the holidays, and my first two weeks back at work gave me very little time to write (my free lessons were largely taken up with marking).**

**However! The chapter is now complete! Even if if did nearly make me cry writing it!**

**Heads up- human anatomy is about as much my speciality as it was Merlin's when he tried to treat Mordred's wound all those long years ago. I tried to be vague with it, so hopefully it works alright.**

**Thank you so much for all of the reviews last chapter- especially to chele the original, who went and reviewed every single chapter, and Jayfire, whose review was just unbelievably flattering. I did get one review saying that the story was dragging, which made me consider ending it sooner than I had planned, especially as I'd thought the dragging had only occurred _before_ my long break. But everyone else seems to be enjoying it. And I have certain things which, to me, really need to happen, so I really can't think of a way to end it before they do. Hopefully, anonymous guest, you'll see why when that point comes... (and I hope I've answered another point in your review in this chapter- I have reasons for the things I do.)**

**Anyway, I think that's enough rambling from me. On to the story!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

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><p><strong>Chapter 32<strong>

The silence echoing around them was practically tangible- weighing down upon the room's inhabitants as magic-users and Knights alike (barring Mordon, whose focus remained entirely upon his brother) stared at the empty space which had previously housed two of their enemies.

Driven by grief and an anger-fueled desperation, Michael dove forward, breaking the stillness the others had fallen into as he reached out with his magic, trying to find the path Merek had taken. Even without confirmation, though, he knew deep down that it was useless. Merek was more than skilled enough to be able to seal the path from the other end. As the realisation hit, he felt his breathing turn ragged, tearing out of him in harsh gasps as he felt the full reality of the situation wash over him in a tumultuous wave. There was absolutely no way of finding them.

But that wasn't going to stop Michael from trying. He _needed_ this. Needed to find the witch-sister of the one responsible for everything he was feeling. He may have had the means to cause Morgause's death ripped from his grasp, but if he could at least take down Morgana, maybe that would be enough. The traitorous Pendragon was equally as responsible. He needed her gone. Needed to feel the satisfaction of seeing her burn from the inside out. Needed to see her in as much agony as Aveline had suffered. Needed to draw out her pain until she gradually reached the utter limits of the human body. Needed to watch as the light eventually flickered from those glittering green eyes. No matter what it took, he _needed_ to take action. Surely Merlin had known as much, so _why_ had he stopped him before?

_Merlin_.

The name in his mind was a harsh reminder of his current situation. Anger redirecting in an instant, he rounded on the younger man, unable at first to force but a single word past the overwhelming fury he was barely managing to keep in check.

_'__Why?__'_

The boy seemed to freeze as he felt the raw emotion behind the mental dagger. But Michael didn't have time for the Warlock to work out how to explain his thrice-cursed reasoning, so instead he stormed forward, grabbing hold of the taller man's shoulders and yanking him around and down until they were face-to-face, eyes level as the full strength of Michael's furious agony burned straight into Emrys' pained gaze. Finally, after several seconds had ticked past with agonising slowness, a few whispered words released the redhead from the spell he had been placed under.

"_Why?_" He hissed once again, this time aloud. "It was my _right_. _**My**_right- not yours. How _dare_ you take that away from me?"

He didn't care that his voice was gradually becoming louder. More manic. Didn't care that he was sounding almost as crazed as Morgana had. His daughter- the only person he had truly cared about in years- was _dead. _And the young man in front of him had seen fit to wrench the means of his revenge from him. In that instant, he couldn't have cared less how powerful Merlin was, or how much hope he represented to the magical community. If he couldn't provide a valid enough reason, Michael would put him through so much pain that, in the end, he would cry out for death.

"It was my _right_."

"I know."

The words were jarring enough- were spoken with enough pain and sorrow- that, just for the barest of moments, Michael's grief was able to give way to repentance. But then the anger was back in full force, and he tightened his grip where it had shifted to the front of Merlin's shirt, until the young man winced in pain. It would definitely result in bruising. But that was the least of what he deserved.

"Then why?" His voice faltered, and Michael realised with a start that he was crying- tears streaming silently down his cheeks. "Why did you stop me?"

It was only when Merlin choked upon trying to speak that he realised he had begun to cut off the Warlock's air supply. Slightly reluctantly, he loosened his grip just enough for the dark-haired man to draw in a shuddering breath.

"I couldn't-" he coughed, "couldn't let you-"

"It was my _right!_" He was practically yelling now, flecks of spit flying from his mouth and hitting the other man square in the face. If Merlin noticed, though, he gave no indication. "I could have killed her!"

"I couldn't let you." Merlin reiterated, tears welling in his own eyes now. "Not like that. You know what that spell would have cost you." He raised a hand of his own now, placing it shakily- almost uncertainly- on Michael's shoulder. "I know how it feels," he whispered, his voice tinged with the memory of past regrets. "I've given into a similar rage myself, just once before. So I know that I have no right to stop you from seeking your revenge."

"Then wh-"

"But," Merlin cut him off. "I just couldn't let you do it. If you had just been going to kill her, I would have stood by. As I said, I have no right to interfere. But that spell- I was listening. I know what you were planning on doing. And I couldn't let you. I couldn't let you dishonour Aveline like that. She cared _so much_ for you. _So_ much. I couldn't just stand by and let you-"

"Merlin!"

The urgent voice resounded across the room, and the Warlock's gaze automatically snapped to face the source. At some point during their confrontation, the Prince had moved over to Kennard's side and, judging by the expression on his face, the young Knight's situation had become even more dire.

Merlin was out of his grasp before Michael even realised what was happening and, almost as though the argument with the younger man had been the only thing holding him up, the redhead suddenly found himself on his knees, his burning anger engulfed by chilling numbness. With nothing to distract him, he found that the full reality of the situation was finally hitting him. Never again would he be awakened by Aveline tugging on the sleeves of his nightshirt. Never again would he be able to see her radiant smile as she handed him yet another freshly-woven wreath of colourful flowers. Or watch her exaggerated movements as she tried to communicate with new people- too stubborn to accept any help from him. She was actually gone. Forever.

And he couldn't even have one of her hugs as comfort.

"Damn it!"

Slowly shifting his blank gaze towards the source of the unexpected profanity, somewhere through the haze of despair clouding his mind he was able to register the fact that Merlin's whole voice and demeanour practically _screamed_ desperation.

"Isn't there anything you can do for him?" The Prince. Still being demanding even through (or maybe because of) his poorly-concealed fear for his Knight.

"I'm trying!" Merlin again- his hands, Michael now realised, covered in a startlingly red liquid. Blood. "I know the spells, but this is beyond anything I've ever done before. The medical knowledge is..."

It was almost possible to see the precise moment that the crowd surrounding them finally lost all hope. The Knights bowed their heads. Arthur clenched his fists, just inches away from punching a wall. And Sir Mordon's expression seemed to reflect a numbness almost as deep as Michael himself was feeling.

It was this final reaction, more than anything else, which dragged the sorcerer from his well of grief. He had been serving in Camelot for long enough to be well aware of the virtue of both Mordon and of his brother. The Knight didn't deserve to feel such pain as his. Michael was certain there were only a handful of people who _did._

Rising shakily to his feet, the redhead staggered over to kneel at Emrys' side. Casting an eye over the wound, he rested his hands to either side of the Warlock's own, applying as little pressure as possible. By the looks of it, even for a sorcerer as skilled as he, this task would have been impossible under normal circumstances. But with the legendary Emrys right there with him, these were _far_ from normal circumstances.

"Just give me power."

Barely even registering the younger man's startled expression, or the determined and thankful nod which followed, Michael instead focused his entire mentality on the injury before him. Breathing deeply, he dove in.

First was the blade. Drawing on Merlin's magic from the start- rather than risk the difficulty of switching over at a time when his own would run out, especially in such a delicate operation-he allowed the warmth of magic to run through him, and the sword slowly began to withdraw, practically at a snail's pace. Even before it was moving, though, Michael had already switched to the next stage, beginning to knit the muscles lining the stomach together, sealing it up as the blade passed, and moving as fast as could be accomplished safety. He could feel the movement beneath his hands- the subtle shifting as new cells sprung into existence, ensuring that the stomach's acids would be incapable of escape. As soon as that happened, there would be no saving the silver-eyed Knight.

The sword gradually travelled further and further outwards- only not toppling due to the magic holding it up- and Michael worked non-stop, healing nerves, replacing the falling blood into the torn veins wherever possible, and casting replenishing spells wherever it wasn't. Some cells he healed. The ones beyond repair he replaced, instructing the damaged ones to follow the path of the blade which had destroyed them.

Suddenly, the Knight's body jerked slightly as the fallen man groaned, beginning to stir. If Michael could have spared even an ounce of concentration, he would have cursed. If Kennard woke up, there was no doubt that his automatic reaction would be to move. And everything would have been in vain. The sorcerer continued his work with a vengeance, hoping beyond hope that that wouldn't happen. Fortunately, Merlin seemed to have reached the same conclusion, as a separate spell appeared out of nowhere and spread throughout the entirety of the Knight's body, sending him back into a deep sleep.

Thoroughly relieved, Michael continued his work. Then, after what felt like years lost in a maze of nerve-fibres and torn tissue, he withdrew, broke his connection to Merlin's magic, and sat back to inspect his handiwork. Scanning the jagged wound which had replaced the previous gash, and mentally running though every moment of the operation in his mind, he gave a sigh of relief, followed by a satisfied nod once he had checked on the unconscious man's heart rate.

"Will he be alright now?"

Turning his face away from his patient, the sorcerer answered Mordon's barely-whispered plea with as best a reassuring smile as he could muster.

"It'll take a while for him to heal fully, and I can't guarantee that he'll ever be able to fight again. But yes- he should live."

There was barely even a moments pause before the Knight collapsed into tears, sobbing out words of gratitude as he bent over his brother's torso, giving the younger man as strong an embrace as he dared given his condition.

The rest of the Knights- Arthur included- burst into wide grins, blinking away their own tears in favour of clapping each-others' shoulders, and generally relishing this small moment of celebration.

Michael couldn't bear it.

He knew he should be happy. And a small portion of him _was_- after all, he had just succeeded in a nigh-on impossible operation. A man's life had been saved. But instead, seeing the thrilled expressions which had taken over the crowd of men did little else but remind him of hat he himself had lost. Witnessing their moment of joy... it was almost as though _he_ was now the one with a sword stabbing through him. Only this one was through the heart.

And it hurt.

Unable to cope with the happy atmosphere for even a moment longer, he slowly backed away from the group, instead making his way over to stand once more at his daughter's side. Seeing her there- so still, so damaged- he allowed himself to weep silently, grieving for all the years that his beautiful angel should have been able to have, and now never would.

Somewhere in the midst of it all, he sensed Merlin coming up and standing at his side. He didn't say anything- something Michael would be eternally grateful for- but his presence alone was enough to express a multitude of emotions, including gratefulness. Primarily, though, it was the younger man's own grief which allowed the older sorcerer to feel a small sense of comfort in his presence.

He wasn't sure how much time passed with them just standing there. But when Michael finally managed to tear his eyes from Aveline's body, he was surprised to see all of the Knights- including Mordon- standing behind him, all offering their own respects for his daughter's sacrifice. Tears almost started to fall again upon seeing them, but he managed to reign them in this time. Just. Instead, he swallowed past the lump in his throat, and focused his eyes on those of the Prince.

"What now?"


	33. Chapter 33

**It's amazing what a day of very few lessons, together with a sudden burst of inspiration, can do for a writer. I'd been having trouble with this one after the emotional turmoil that was chapter 32- it wasn't bad exactly, but it just wasn't right either. So I ended up re-writing a large percentage of it- even a couple of lines I really quite liked, and this here is the result. For some strange reason, I seem to know quite a bit about my OCs' families... I wonder if, to them, that makes me a creep...**

**Anyway, sorry to keep you waiting. Go ahead and read now.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. Things would be very different if I did... although probably not in the ways it would be for most people...**

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><p><strong>Chapter 33<strong>

"What now?"

The words served as a harsh reminder. Were he to be perfectly honest with himself, Arthur would admit that he had been so focused on saving his people from the enchantment that he had all but forgotten about what would happen once it was lifted. They had no time to rest yet- no time to mourn. There was far too much which still needed doing- and fast, before everything erupted into chaos.

It took mere moments for Arthur to come up with a plan of action.

"Quentin. Check on those two." He jerked his head towards the two fallen sorcerers, knowing that there was no need to have Leon looked at too. Whatever the circumstances, Kennard would never have caused the older Knight any more pain than absolutely necessary. Then, as Quentin hurried to obey his order, he took a moment to once more study the face of the girl who had given everything- her very life- in order to save his first true friend. A burst of gratitude welled up within him, mixing with the sorrow and grief he already felt regarding her sacrifice, and he stepped closer to her. Gesturing for Kolby to hand over his cloak, Arthur draped the garment over Aveline's still form, offering up a prayer as he did so that her soul be safely delivered to a place where she could rest in peace and happiness.

Then he stood once more, briefly acknowledging the stunned gratitude he saw in Michael's eyes as he did so, and turned to receive Quentin's report.

"Well?"

"The man is dead, sire. Looks like a broken neck. The woman's just unconscious."

Arthur cast a brief glance towards the dead sorcerer. Despite the harm he had caused, the Blond had to wonder whether the man had even wanted to be involved in this entire mess in the first place, or whether he- like Michael- had felt that there had simply been no other option.

Looking over at the ginger sorcerer, Arthur tilted his head in the direction of the woman. "Can she be trusted?"

If the older man was surprised that he was being asked for his opinion on this, he didn't show it. "I think so," he answered slowly, "but I can't be completely sure. She's not exactly trusting of Camelot's Knights, from what I've heard. Or any nobility, really."

"Understood. In that case, maybe it's best that you wait until we've gone before waking her and Leon up."

Mordon started at that. "Waking her up?"

"Yes. I'm going to have Merlin bring down that barrier soon-" he gestured towards the still-present golden shield- "and let the children out. I want as many people as possible here to calm them down and protect them if necessary. That means Guinevere, Garrett, Michael, you... and her."

The older Knight had never (whilst not enchanted, at least) even considered going against his Prince before. But, with Kennard still unconscious on the floor as a direct result of that woman's actions, it seemed as though this may be where he drew the line.

"But sire! She-"

Arthur quickly cut him off. "No buts, Sir Mordon. I am well aware of her crimes. And, believe me, I do not find this any easier than you do. But, like it or not, this is the best course of action. We have no idea of her circumstances. If she steps out of bounds, you have my permission to subdue her however you see fit. But, until then, I need you to work together."

Arthur kept his eyes focused determinedly on Mordon's as he spoke, hoping beyond all hope that the other Knight would bee able to see past his own griefs and fears so as to detect even a portion of the Prince's own conflicting emotions regarding this matter. The woman had come within inches of being the cause of Kennards death. Even if she had had her reasons, such an action was proving _beyond _difficult to forgive. But, when it came down to it, this was precisely the kind of decision he would have to face when he became King. And he would not- could not- rule with the same blindness and unwillingness to change and to forgive as his father was. It was high time Camelot began to make amends for how magic-users had been treated throughout the years. And if that meant relying on the help of a sorceress who had been their enemy mere moments before... well then, so be it. The courtesy had been extended to Michael, and the older man had proven himself invaluable to their efforts. Who was to say that the same would not be true for others?

Mordon seemed to be fighting an inner battle himself, but eventually a glint of resigned determination appeared in his amber eyes. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he nodded once

"Understood."

As soon as the word was uttered, the Prince released a breath he hadn't even realised he had been holding. "Thank you."

Then, with that particular unpleasantness out of the way, Arthur turned to Merlin.

"Is there a way to make sure that no more of the sorcerers left in Camelot can escape for now? I'll need to be able to address them later."

The Warlock shot him something similar to a smug smirk. "Already done. I may have been too slow to stop those two-" there was no need to ask which 'two' he was referring to- "but I've set up a barrier around the city. It's a bit crude, but it should be effective enough that anyone with active magic will be unable to pass through without my permission. It's only temporary though. I'd say we have 'til sundown."

Holding back his curiosity over when exactly his friend had found time for such a feat, and trying as well to hide any signs of his awe (although, looking at the sudden glint in the other man's eyes, he had failed), Arthur only offered Merlin a single, satisfied nod before turning to the previously enchanted Knights.

"Garrett, it's as you heard before. Stay here, keep things calm, and make sure no harm comes to any of the children. And, once Leon's been woken up, send him to the council rooms. Any questions?"

"None, sire."

"Good. Quentin, I want you at the bells. Send the message to get to the training grounds- the courtyard is likely to be overrun with civilians fairly soon. Kolby will meet them there."

"Understood, sire."

"Kolby, I want you to take charge of the Knights. Have some spread the word for the council to gather, and others remain in the city to keep everything running smoothly and calmly. Meanwhile, I want riders sent to each of the outlying towns and villages to inform the people of what has happened and make sure there is no panic. And patrols need to be sent out to reinforce the borders. Also, I know we can't be too honest yet about what has happened here today, but at the very least let rumours be spread that magic was a key factor in releasing everyone. Is that clear?"

"Crystal clear, sire."

"Excellent." Here Arthur paused, before cutting into the seam of his boot and extracting one of the coins crafted with the royal seal. Pressing it into Kolby's palm, he continued. "Here. If anyone questions you, this should be enough to convince them that you're acting under my express orders." He broke off again, casting a careful eye over the two Knights.

"And now for the unorthodox part. The key here is speed. We need to move fast, and enough time has been wasted here already. I won't order you, and it won't be held against you if you refuse, but I ask that you allow Merlin and Michael to transport you directly to your locations. Will you do so?"

There were a few moments of awkward silence as the two took in the magnitude of the Prince's request. Should they accept it, there was little to no doubt that Uther would see their actions as treason were they to be discovered, even if he was told that they were acting under orders from the Prince himself. For a disappointing moment, Arthur found himself certain that they would refuse.

But then Kolby lifted his chin in determination, and Quentin quickly followed suit. Neither man said a word, but their intent was perfectly clear regardless. Arthur could practically feel the gratitude shining from his eyes as he grasped their arms in thanks. Then he stepped back, nodding at the two magic-users to begin.

Mere seconds later, the room was short two inhabitants, and Arthur felt a sharp breath escape his lips. Things were about to get difficult again.

In the minuscule lull which followed the Knights' departure, Arthur risked throwing a questioning glance in Merlin's direction, wondering once again when he had found both the time and the power to cast such a spell so soon after his earlier feat with the vessels- especially considering Kennard's healing. Remembering back to the day of that fateful battle just outside of Camelot's walls, and the utter panic he had felt upon seeing the younger man slam to his knees, too exhausted to even stand upright unaided, he knew that the Merlin of six months prior would at the very least have been almost unconscious by this point. But the Blond was left rolling his eyes when the Warlock did nought but offer a shrug in reply. How the idiot managed to produce such actions which were simultaneously cocky and self-depreciating was a mystery he doubted he would ever be able to solve.

And now that their original goal was complete, he was left with the question of how exactly his father would react to the Warlock's involvement _this_ time.

...His father.

"Michael!" He spun around to face the older sorcerer (and, as such, remained oblivious when Merlin blanched upon hearing his next question). "My father. Do you know where he was being kept? I can't risk any sorcerers going after him once they realise they can't escape."

The minuscule, hesitant pause before Michael gave his answer told Arthur all he needed to know.

His expression somewhat guilty, the redhead gave a slow nod. "The throne room." He hesitated again, obviously uncertain whether or not to continue. "But I can't promise you'll like what you find."

Unable to quite quell the small knot of panic which settled in the pit of his stomach upon hearing the sorcerer's words, Arthur could do little but nod in reply. Shooting a glance towards Merlin, he was grateful when the younger man seemed to understand exactly what it was he was asking. Waving a hand in the vague direction of his golden barrier, Merlin stepped forward and took hold of his friend's forearm.

The whispered words of the transportation spell went almost unheard as the sound of bells echoed in the distance, and the last thing Arthur saw before the whirling winds carried him off was Guinevere's shocked expression staring back at him as the barrier faded away.

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><p>When the rushing in his ears finally stopped, and Kolby dared to open his eyes, he found himself to be not on the actual training fields, as he had expected, but instead around the corner of a nearby wall, out of sight of prying eyes. Sending up silent thanks to the sorcerer called Michael, he peered out around the wall. Nobody around. Even after losing his daughter in the blasted mess these past days had brought, the man had still retained enough of his wits to disguise such an obvious display of magic, thereby nullifying some of the Knight's earlier concerns.<p>

As he started out on the short jog to the training field proper, Kolby began running over the Prince's orders in his mind. If he were perfectly honest, he would much rather have traded places with the older, more experienced, Garrett. Although there was no question that the other Knight- being the only one of those present at the time with recent experience of dealing with younger siblings- was better equipped to handle such a large group of scared, confused children, Kolby couldn't help but curse his own luck at being tasked with the most difficult of the ordered roles. He had joined the Knights at eighteen, just four years previously, and although this technically meant that he had been a Knight for about as long as the Prince himself, he was in no way as comfortable as Arthur was when it came to taking charge in such situations. It rather made him wonder why the Blond had selected _him_ for the task, when Quentin, with his fourteen years of service, would most likely have been the better choice.

He doubted he would ever understand completely what went on in that man's head.

And then there was the magic issue.

Unlike many in Camelot, Kolby had never been able to bring himself to completely hate the arcane arts. Nor did he fear them to quite the degree that his older sister did. But, even so, he was still far from comfortable with their use. The mere decision to allow Michael to use magic on him directly had taken almost all of his resolve. Had it been anyone other than Arthur who had issued the request, there was absolutely no doubt in his mind that he would have refused.

It was as he was thinking this, whilst just nearing the centre of the field, that he heard the bells strike their first chimes. As their sound washed over him, he automatically translated their meaning in his head, knowing that, all throughout the city, hundreds of Knights were doing the same. And he was going to have to take charge of the lot of them.

Already able to see the first few Knights heading towards him in the distance, Kolby closed his eyes, taking a slow, steady breath to calm his nerves. Regardless of his own doubts, this was the role the Prince had granted him. He could not fail here.

By the time he opened his eyes again, even more red cloaks had come into view. Unexpectedly feeling a strange well of something similar to confidence rise up within him, even through the still-present fear, Kolby twisted his lips into something between a grin and a grimace, and whispered just three short words to himself.

"Bring it on."

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><p><strong>So... yeah. Yet another OC seems to have decided to butt his way into having the equivalent of a solo part. Not that I'm complaining- I'm finding that I rather like Kolby, too. The dude has some insecurities, but he really is a genuinely nice guy. Even after the stuff he and his family have been through.<strong>

**I'm curious- is this like a side effect of creating such a diverse au-ish offshoot? Am I going to end up with more and more OCs coming in to fill up this world of mine? Should I try to control them, or do you lovely readers of mine not mind new ones popping up every now and then?**


	34. Chapter 34

**Hi! First things first, a brief apology- I actually finished writing this chapter a few weeks back, but struggled to find time to get it all typed up and ready to post. Still, here's hoping at all worked out in the end, as it gave me extra time to tweak a few bits.**

**Thank you all so much for the feedback regarding my OCs last chapter. The general consensus seems to be that they're quite popular, as long as I only bring in new ones when they really are needed. As such, I thought I'd give a quick heads up- there are a few new OCs popping up in the next couple of chapters, but as far as I can tell they'll all be fairly minor ones who are likely to be largely contained in just this section.**

**Without further ado...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

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><p><strong>Chapter 34<strong>

Arthur had half expected to find his father half-dead, and perhaps even injured almost beyond recognition. The Morgana he had met today had seemed to truly loath the man, and he wouldn't have put it past such a madwoman to take her vengeance out on Uther through torture- especially after what Michael had hinted at regarding the King's likely condition. So he was surprised, to say the least, to find himself in front of a seemingly unharmed Uther Pendragon- his only wounds being the familiar sight of raw, shallow cuts caused by the manacles which encircled his wrists.

Standing protectively in front of where Uther dangled, unconscious, from the wall were two terrified-looking guards, their spears shaking slightly in otherwise firm grips as they prepared themselves to fight whatever enemy was appearing before them. Upon seeing that it was the Prince, however, the spears were slowly lowered, shock replacing fear as they wondered what exactly to make of the method of his arrival.

Before either of them had had quite enough time to process this turn of events, however, Arthur had stepped forward. Taking a brief moment to memorise their faces, he offered the pair a short nod.

"Good work, gentlemen. You can relax now."

As he stepped past them, the taller of the pair addressed him hesitantly, gesturing as he did towards the King's shackles.

"We couldn't get him down, sire. And there doesn't even appear to be a keyhole to pick."

"Couldn't wake him up either, sire," the shorter, elder of the two piped up. "I don't know what exactly those witches did to him, but he won't stir at all."

Fear rising once again at the guards' worry-filled observations, Arthur reached out to gently shake his father's shoulder, checking as he did so for any signs of injury he might have missed. With no response forthcoming, he turned towards the room's final occupant.

"Merlin?"

The Warlock came forward (noticing, but obviously choosing to ignore, the way the younger guard stepped back slightly warily at the action), his own brow creased in concern.

"There are many ways to twist magic for use in torture, and I'm certain that Morgause was well versed in more than a couple of them. Until he wakes up and tells us, there's no way to know with complete certainty what they did. But I can try to get rid of any lasting effects." With that said, he placed a hand on one of the manacles. "Brace yourself."

Heeding Merlin's words, Arthur changed his position so that he was holding up the Kings' weight. Then, as the manacles sprung open, he lowered his father slowly to the floor, arranging him so that he was lying on his back.

Unwilling to part when his father was in such a condition, Arthur knelt at the older man's side, Merlin mirroring the Prince's actions opposite from him. He could do nothing but watch, once again unable to help, as the Warlock placed one hand on Uther's forehead, and the other on his chest. If this didn't work...

...No! Arthur forcefully shook the thought from his mind. It _would_ work. It _had_ to work. This was the man who, in his own way, had done his best to raise his son up to be the King their people deserved. The man who had given him his first sword, and who had comforted him as best he knew how when Arthur's favourite hound had had to be put down. He may have been harsh and difficult sometimes- may even have come across as uncaring to many- but everything the stubborn old man had done for the past twenty-four years had been done with Arthur in mind. And, even before then, what he believed to be the Kingdom's best interests at heart. Bowing his head, Arthur began to pray fervently that everything would work out. Screaming out internally, he begged any deity out there who would listen that his stubborn old fool of a father would be stubborn enough to once again emerge unscathed.

In all of this, though, only one, barely even audible, word made it past his lips.

"Please..."

...

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><p>It can't have been more than five minutes later (though it felt like an eternity) when something finally changed. Only instead of the change coming from Uther, as he had expected, Arthur was startled to see Merlin's hand begin to shake violently where it rested on the King's chest. Raising his head in shock, the Prince realised with horror that it wasn't only his friend's hand which was shaking. Tremors were running throughout the entirety of the Warlock's body at an alarming speed. His eyes were wide open and unseeing, while his jaw was clenched tightly in what Arthur recognised as a reaction to what was probably extreme pain- the action probably done deliberately in an effort to prevent himself from biting through his own tongue.<p>

Acting automatically, Arthur reached out his hand, intending to attempt to hold the younger man still. But he was stopped short by a sudden, firm grip on his arm. Intending to yank his arm away, the Blond turned to snap at whoever was daring to hold him back from helping his friend. But the words faded in an instant when his eyes met the solemn gaze of the older guard.

"Best not to touch him, sire," the man said grimly. "I've seen similar fits before, and it's far better to just let 'em run their course."

Despite the sharp reply rising in his throat, something in the man's eyes stopped him short. There was a pain there- old, but still fresh- and it was enough to quell any thoughts of arguments blossoming in the Prince's mind.

Instead, Arthur turned back, his hand unknowingly tightening it's grip on his father's shoulder as he found himself once again powerless to assist in his friend's battle.

And still the shuddering continued. The veins in Merlin's neck and forehead were beginning to stand out in stark relief from his usually pale skin, now reddening in his efforts to both keep his jaw shut tight, and his hands firm in their respective positions. Then the seizures began to grow more violent, becoming faster and faster until the young man before them was just shy of virtually vibrating.

And then... they stopped. With no indication whatsoever of slowing down, the shaking suddenly came to an abrupt halt, and Merlin knelt before them, stock still and panting hard, his still-wide eyes transformed into that fabulous shade of gold which Arthur had come to know so well.

A moment of deathly silence passed, and Arthur was about to call Merlin's name when a shocked gasp from the other guard drew his attention. Following the man's gaze, he felt his own eyes widen upon seeing the small, black spheres which were forming in the air above each of Merlin's hands. The spheres slowly grew in size, expanding until each one was the approximate thickness of one of the Prince's thumbs, before suddenly launching themselves sideways and rolling to a stop on the floor a short distance away. The taller guard was just reaching down to pick one up when a breathless voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Don't touch it!" The Warlock may have been out of breath, but the authority behind that statement was impossible to ignore, and the guard drew back as though burned. Hastily untying his neckerchief, Merlin moved around, using the material to pick up the balls and wrap them in a tightly-sealed bundle. "These contain the spells which were used on Uther. Touch them, and you'll go through the same pain." He shuddered momentarily, and Arthur's eyes widened as he realised with horror that that was exactly was Merlin had just done. "Believe me, you don't want that."

Knowing that the Warlock wouldn't want to talk about what he had just experienced right at this moment, Arthur forced himself to push the issue to the back of his mind, and instead settled for eyeing the small package with a new-found wariness as Merlin placed it firmly in one of his pockets and (he suspected, at least) sealed it in there with a quick spell. No doubt the Warlock would find somewhere to safely store the spheres later, to prevent them from ending up in the wrong hands.

Suddenly, a stirring from the floor drew the immediate attention of the entire room, just in time to see the King's eyes blink slowly open.

"Father?"

"Arthur?" Uther blinked hazy eyes, his features scrunched up slightly in evident confusion. Then, in an instant, the haziness vanished, replaced by a dawning clarity. Snapping abruptly upright, he grabbed hold of one of his son's shoulders- whether in concern, or simply to steady himself Arthur had no idea- and fixed him firmly in the eye. "What are you doing here? Where's Morgana? Morgause?"

Reacting to the demanding tone in the King's voice, Arthur found himself automatically slipping into the professional calmness expected of the Kingdom's first Knight.

"Morgause is dead, sire, and Morgana gone. She fled together with another sorcerer shortly after Morgause was killed."

"Killed?" It seemed to take a moment for the full meaning of the word to sink in, though once it had, the corners of Uther's mouth twitched upwards slightly in what appeared to be pride. "You killed her?"

Arthur shook his head. "Not I, father. She was killed by the same man who succeeded in releasing the kingdom from those cursed enchantments."

Whilst processing this new information, Uther rose slowly to his feet, mirrored and supported by Arthur, until the two stood face-to-face.

"Then I must thank this 'man' you speak of," he proclaimed at last. "Where is he?"

This was it. Gulping down his nerves as best he could, Arthur allowed his gaze to drift over to where Merlin stood some distance apart, having backed away to give the two of them some space. He knew the exact moment when his father's eyes had found the Warlock too, as the King suddenly tensed where he stood.

"What is _he_ doing here?!"

* * *

><p>...<p>

* * *

><p>No-one could accuse the Knights of Camelot of not acting quickly in a crisis. Within less than fifteen minutes, the training fields were filled with whole crowds of expectant faces, all waiting impatiently for Kolby to deliver the Prince's instructions for them.<p>

As for Kolby himself, standing before this mass of men- most of whom were older than himself- and trying desperately to cling to the confidence he had felt such a short time before, he found himself rather at a loss as to how to start. The assignments themselves would be easy enough to issue if he followed along the lines of standard protocol, but he had absolutely no idea as to how he was going to convince a group of Knights who had sworn to uphold King Uther's laws to go completely against what was easily one of their monarch's strictest decrees. Who was he to be attempting to persuade them that magic- a force rallied against for more than twenty years now- could actually be used in their favour?

Reaching the decision than he was just going to have to overcome that wall when he came to it, he took a deep breath, attempting to calm his frantically-beating heart. And, when he finally spoke, he was proud of how his voice remained strong and firm, betraying not a hint of his inner turmoil.

"Thank you all for responding so quickly." He paused, fixing as many men in the eye as possible. "I am sure you are all curious as to how exactly it was possible that we have been freed from the enchantments Morgana and Morgause used to bind and control our souls. And, under Prince Arthur's orders, I shall inform you all of what I know of the matter shortly."

Deciding it would be best to build up to the most controversial issue rather than diving right in, Kolby mentally ran through what he knew in terms of the Knights' strengths.

"But first," he continued, "your assignments. Squads four, seven and nine- you will be riding out to the outlying towns and villages. Squad four to the east, squad nine to the north, and seven are to cover those in the southern and western directions. Your instructions are to assure the safety and peace of mind of the citizens living in those areas, as well as to reveal to them what you can of the information I will shortly be unveiling. Are there any questions?"

Although he could detect some confusion over his continued delay in relating the full facts, no queries were issued, and so Kolby quickly moved on.

"Squads one, five and six are to ride out immediately to ensure that the borders are secure. I will entrust it to your squad leaders to decide who will travel to the outposts and who is to patrol, as I am in no doubt that they are far more aware of your strengths than I am.

"All other squads are to remain in the city. Eight and two, your duties are much the same as those travelling to the villages. Squad ten are to take on the city's defences- make sure they are secure, and have men posted at every entrance. We cannot let ourselves appear weak. Squad three are to locate the council members and ask them to gather- there is a lot which needs to be discussed.

"Is everyone clear?"

Looking around at the wave of nodding, and listening to the brief affirmatives from the squad leaders (or lieutenants, in the case of Mordon and Leon's squads), Kolby allowed a small seed of hope to take root in his chest. However things turned out from now on, he was glad to discover that he was able to issue orders like this without too much trouble.

But now came the difficult part.

Still with now idea of what he was going to say, or of how his words were going to be anything other than badly received, he decided that quite possibly the only thing he could do was just to start talking and hope that everything turned out for the best. Besides, he had been hesitating for long enough already. If he took any longer, people were only going to get more anxious.

"I do not know," he began at last, clutching the coin Arthur had entrusted to him tightly in his fist, "by exactly what miracle this occurred. But when, while still under the spell which bound us, myself and a handful of other Knights followed Morgana and Morgause to root out what they believed to be a band of traitors, we found ourselves instead confronted by a small team of people who had been seemingly unaffected by the enchantment- a team led by the Prince himself. And thus, I was a witness to the events which followed. And, as such, though some may choose not to believe me, I can verify them to be true.

"Prince Arthur wishes it to be known that, though he had sanctioned it, it was not he alone who released us. His orders are to let it be known that none of us could have possibly been freed, were it not for the use... of magic."

As he had expected, the field broke out into pandemonium.

However, even though he had been trying to prepare himself for this all throughout his speech, nothing could have quite readied him for the sheer magnitude of the onslaught of voices with which he was now confronted. Fighting desperately against his growing urge to simply shrink away, Kolby forced himself to stand tall and still, praying desperately all the while that things would die down quickly.

Suddenly, the commanding voice of Sir Borin, leader of the first squad, rang out across the field.

"Enough!"

The crowd silenced almost immediately, and the older Knight stepped forward, evidently having elected himself as the groups' spokesperson. Kolby was more than grateful for the action, as he doubted anyone present would dare to interrupt the man who ranked highest amongst them all. Although the knowledge of that rank was hardly effective in making the situation any less daunting for _him._

Borin fixed him with a stern gaze.

"You are asking _us_- Knights under the rule of King Uther himself- to commit treason against our liege-lord, and inform his citizens that the magic which is known as a blight upon this Kingdom- nay, the very Earth itself!- is actually a force for good?!"

Kolby shook his head. "The Prince is well aware that such an action is completely infeasible. He asks only that, if questioned, we let it be known that magic played an important role in our release."

The distinction was, he believed, enough that the men were safe of being fully accused of treason, but it was a grey enough area that he could easily understand the firm reluctance still obviously present in almost every face.

Borin's expression tightened slightly, obviously not yet satisfied.

"You know as well as I do, Sir Kolby, that the King will not see it that way. And the people of this Kingdom have suffered greatly because of magic. Yourself included, if I recall correctly. I'd have thought that you, of all people, would know better than most here the pain it is capable of wreaking. So how is it that you stand there now, condoning it's use?"

Kolby froze, memories of that cursed day bombarding his mind, and he had to fight hard to bite back a surge of bitter anger as he realised that this- _this!_- was the reason the Prince had selected _him_ for this God-forsaken role.

Unprepared for the sudden reference to what had quite easily been the worst time of his entire life, it took several moments for him to be able to calm down and think clearly enough to offer a rebuttal.

"You're right," he forced out at last, fixing Borin with a haunted glare, before deliberately allowing his gaze to wander along the many faces staring back at him. "I do know. I know exactly how much magic is capable of destroying. I know perfectly well how much the families of those it takes from us are forced to endure- the hell that it makes them experience.

"But I also know that other families can suffer just as much- families whose loved ones are taken from them not by magic, but by swords and other mortal means. Yet do we ourselves not train every day to perfect our own sword craft? Granted that we do so in order to protect the ones we love, but when it comes down to it, every single man standing here is more than aware that a sword can only truly ever be used to harm.

"Today, before my very eyes, a sword was what very nearly caused Sir Kennard to lose his life. But," he continued, voice rising in volume so as to be heard over the sudden smattering of alarm, "he was saved. Magic did what no sword could ever do- it brought a man back from the brink of death, and actually _prevented_ the agony which would have otherwise befallen his family.

"You ask whether I condone the use of magic," he stated, once more meeting Borin's eyes. "The truth of the matter is that I do not know. But I cannot deny what I saw today. Just as none of _you_ can truly ignore the events of the battle half a year ago. And, while it is true that the thought of allowing magic to be used freely alarms me, I also cannot refute the Prince's reasoning for wanting it to be so.

"And so, in keeping with the orders I was given, together with the vow of honesty I made whilst swearing to the Knight's code, I plan on doing my part to let the truth of today's events be known. I know, however, that this is not a choice which can be made for you, and so I leave it up to each of you individually to decide whether or not you will do the same."

Knowing that there was nothing more he could say, Kolby turned away, feeling every eye on him as he made his way steadily towards the centre of the city, pushing thoughts of his own past to the back of his mind as he did so. He had a job to do as a member of squad two, and _nothing_ was going to hold him back from that task.

* * *

><p><strong>I didn't think it was possible, but Kolby's growing on me almost as fast as Kennard did. Funnily enough though, the guards (names of Rowan and Hadrian, incidentally) are too, even if they're not around for long. Even if Hadrian is yet another one with a fair ol' clump of tragedy in his past. <strong>

**As a matter of personal interest, would you mind telling me which of the following you would prefer:**

**1)(Sometime after finishing up this one) I write a collection of one/two shots showing the history/background of some of my OCs.**

**2) I answer any questions any of you lovely folk have regarding said OCs by means of pms.**

**3) Both of the above.**

**4) None of the above.**

**Also, I believe I have finally settled on an overall title for this series, although I probably won't reveal it for a few more chapters. If anyone has any suggestions they feel would fit... well, who knows- my mind has been known to change in the past.**


	35. Chapter 35

**Howdy, my lovely readers (both reviewers and lurkers alike). These past couple of weeks have been somewhat eventful where this story is concerned- tests in some of the schools I teach at meant that I had a rather shocking lack of work to do, and as such I've ended up with several chapters written within my notebook. Now just comes the matter of finding the time to type them all up. As a matter of fact (and in a rather shocking turn of events for me), I actually finished writing the entire thing! With this story having been in development for over two and a half years, I'm sure that you can understand a little just how much of a shock that was for me! As such, it is with a rather confused jumble of emotions that I bring you this latest installment. I really hope you enjoy it.**

**Disclaimer: Do I really have to say it? I don't own Merlin (though I'm beginning to think I should, with all of your flattery). Sigh.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 35<strong>

Clutching lightly to his trousers in an attempt to halt the slight trembling which had suddenly overcome his hands, Merlin concentrated on keeping both his breathing and his gaze as steady as possible. With Uther's accusing glare boring into his soul, so similar to when they had last been face-to-face, the young Warlock was finding himself hard-pressed not to simply turn tail and run. He had feared Uther in the past- feared what the King could do to him should he be discovered for what he was- but that fear was nothing compared with the whirlwind of emotions he now found himself to be confronted with. Six months of complete isolation- one hundred and ninety three days of sitting alone with only his magic as comfort, wondering if he was ever going to see the light of day with his own eyes again, or whether he would eventually just surrender to it all and lose his grip on reality completely. All of the emotions and memories he had been so forcefully repressing ever since the door had swung open to reveal Arthur staring back at him- they all came rushing back at once, almost overwhelming him with their ferocity.

Closing his eyes just momentarily to shut out Uther's gaze, Merlin allowed himself a single deep breath. Knowing that he needed to be calm if he wanted to have a hope in hell of making it through the rest of the day, he concentrated on pushing the torrent of emotions back once more, and locking them away, ready to be worked through properly at a later point in time.

It was, he realised somewhat bitterly, a good thing he had had so much practice in the art.

Exhaling as slowly as he could, Merlin blinked his eyes open once again. Uther still had not removed his gaze and, as such, their eyes met again almost instantly.

This time, though, there was something different. Without his own jumble of confusion clouding his mind, he allowed himself to properly study what he could of the King's own mental state. And so, this time, he noticed it. Hidden behind a wall of anger and stubborn hatred, and even behind the uncertainty and wariness, he saw the fear. After all this time- after all these years- he finally understood exactly how afraid Uther truly was.

But the protection spell he had cast earlier that day still lingered, wrapped gently around the King's soul, and pulsing with a gentle light which only he, as the caster, could see. Merlin had left it in place in an effort to lessen the remaining mental pain from Morgana's torture- as it was only the physical traces which could ever truly be cast aside by anyone other than Uther himself- and he found himself sincerely hoping that it was of some use in relieving the older man of at least a small portion of the fear and pain which the young Warlock could see in him. Not because he particularly cared for Uther- given what the man had put him through, such a feat would be difficult to say the least- but because he could understand. Could understand so well that it hurt. So many of the emotions he himself had battled through because of his magic and his destiny were, by an almost conscious choice, shared by the grey- haired man before him. He had deliberately shut himself off- isolated his heart and trapped himself in a world of fear and torment, all so that he could be the King he thought his people needed.

"I let him out."

The voice was jarring- as if, in a way, it had intruded upon a strangely intimate moment- and as he followed the shift in Uther's eyes until they were both looking at Arthur, Merlin was shocked to realise that it couldn't have been more than a couple of seconds since the King had issued his question.

It took Uther a moment to reply, and Merlin couldn't help but wonder whether it was just a natural pause or whether the usually domineering man had been affected in a similar manner to himself. Had the King sensed it too? That similar burden? That similar pain? He had to be at least vaguely aware of the comforting spell, but it was entirely possible that he hadn't noticed it was magic- he could have just as easily seen it as a by-product of the torture- something he himself had set up in an effort to protect his own mind.

And if he _had_ realised it was magic? If he had, somewhere deep inside, acknowledged the help which magic could offer? If that, by some miracle, did happen to be the case, was it at all possible that he had realised that the source of the spell was Merlin himself? Was that why he had paused?

The poorly concealed venom when Uther finally spat out a reply made him seriously doubt it.

"Why?"

"I'd have thought that was obvious."

"And _I_ would have thought you to know better than to go against my judgement so willingly. This man-" he jabbed a finger in Merlin's direction-" is dangerous."

"Not to Camelot." Came the quick rebuttal, instantly putting to a halt the small spear of pain Merlin had inevitably felt at Uther's words, even though he knew them to be true. "Magic was necessary in order to save everyone- powerful magic. A little more time and the spells would have become too deeply ingrained, and then not even Emrys would have been able to do anything. If there was to be any chance at all for Camelot, Merlin had to be released."

There was complete silence following Arthur's declaration. Uther tensed even further than before. Arthur stared back at him, half defiant, half respectful. The two guards stood awkwardly to one side, watching the three men nervously and looking as though they wished for nothing in the world other than to not be in the room at that particular time. And Merlin- well, to be honest, Merlin just wanted to go to sleep and forget (even if only temporarily) all of the events which had led to this moment. The whole situation was a little overwhelming.

"I've sent instructions for the Knights to gather the council," Arthur eventually continued, once it became clear that Uther had no plans of replying. "I hope you will allow me to explain myself further there. I've also given orders to strengthen the defences of both the city and of Camelot as a whole. And to ensure the well-being of the Kingdom's citizens, too."

Silence fell once more, the air thick with tension as everyone stared at the King, waiting for him to offer some kind of reaction. For a single heartbeat, the man seemed almost frozen in place. The was no anger in either his expression or his posture, as Merlin had expected. Any rage had now seemingly vanished, replaced by a deathly calm which was somehow several times more terrifying than if he had been ranting and raving. Then his shoulders straightened and, without another word to his son, and without so much as glancing at Merlin, he addressed the guards.

"You two are to escort the sorcerer to the council rooms. If he makes any move to escape, or shows any signs whatsoever of using magic, you will run him through without hesitation."

With that said, he promptly turned on his heel and strode from the room, not waiting for a reply.

Merlin immediately made to follow (he had heard Arthur use that same tone of voice enough times to know without a doubt that any delay would not be tolerated), but a hand on his arm held him back.

"I need a message sent out to the sorcerers still in Camelot." Arthur's eyes were firm. "I was going to address them at the same time as the general crowds, but it seems as though that will no longer be possible. Can you link me to them mentally?"

Before Merlin could so much as open his mouth to reply, the older guard beat him to it.

"Sire, I must object. You heard the King. We cannot allow him to use magic."

Most men would have quailed upon being confronted with the piercing glare now on the Prince's face, but- somewhat miraculously- the man's resolve didn't seem to waver. Relenting slightly, the Prince sighed.

"Look- contrary to how this might appear, I am not exactly keen on the idea of disobeying my father so readily. But the fact remains that, right at this moment, there could be any number of sorcerers hidden in Camelot. Morgause is dead, the spells are broken, and there is a barrier around the city preventing them from escaping. I cannot afford for any of them to panic and do something stupid, and I am sure you don't want to see any citizens hurt either. And if the only way to prevent this is to talk to them, then so help me I plan on doing so. I know this is asking a lot, but will you please turn a blind eye?"

After several seconds had passed, the guards exchanged glances, before the elder man bowed his head slightly in defeat.

"Hadrian!" The younger guard swiftly exclaimed, his eyes wide in protest. "We can't-"

"We have to." Hadrian interrupted. "You know that as well as I do, Rowan. Besides," he turned slightly, a wry grin twisting his lips, "we can't report something if we don't see it."

Rowan stared at the older man for a while, something akin to admiration in his gaze. Then, not pausing to acknowledge the Prince's grateful nod, he turned too, a nervous smile of his own beginning to form.

"I really hope this doesn't get me exiled or something," he laughed shakily. "Katelyn would hunt me down and kill me."

Hadrian offered a laugh of his own. "That's if you don't manage to off yourself first. Knowing your luck, you're more likely to stumble into a snake pit. Or something equally ridiculous."

"Ah~ah," came the immediate reply. "I knew I should've just stayed back to help with the inn. Curse my thirst for adventure!"

Grinning slightly, Merlin allowed the guards' voices to fade into the background, and found himself once more to be under Arthur's scrutiny.

"Can you do it?"

The Warlock thought for a moment. "I'm not really sure. Not all magic-users can actually respond to, or even receive, mind-speak, but if I just project the thoughts outwards, I reckon it's quite likely that I'd be able to reach enough for the message to spread."

"And I'd be able to speak directly?"

"I doubt it. For someone without magic to enter into a mental conversation would be completely impossible without first setting up some sort of powerful link, and who knows how long that could... take..."

He trailed off, staring at Arthur intently as a thought occurred to him. How could he have been so stupid?!

"Roll up your sleeve."

"What?"

"Your sleeve!" They really didn't have time for Arthur's stupid side to rear up right now. "I need to see the tattoo!"

Understanding quickly dawned and, almost before he could blink, the Prince had yanked up his left sleeve and thrust his tattoo in the Warlock's face.

Merlin studied it carefully, blue eyes darting from scale to scale in an attempt to glean some meaning where even Gaius had been unable. Huffing in frustration when none could be found, he gave up on reading it, and instead simply probed out with his magic.

The effect was immediate.

His mind suddenly lit up with glittering information, and he couldn't react fast enough to block the shuddering gasp which rose in his throat upon the realisation that, if he had only done this six months ago, he would have been able to communicate with Arthur all along.

The link obviously already formed, Merlin spoke with his mind.

'_Can you hear me? Think your answer._'

Arthur's eyes widened slightly in shock, but he managed to nod. '_I can hear you._'

It was different from regular mind-speak, Merlin realised. He could somehow sense the constant thrum of Arthur's emotions, as well as his voice. And, if the Prince's expression was any indication, the same was true in reverse.

Quickly pushing back his own shock as best he could, Merlin turned and started walking to the door.

"Let's go." '_We should be able to do the rest while walking._'

Neither of them even really hearing Haiden's brief exclamation of "already?," the two friends made their way into the hallway together, both still reeling slightly.

'_Just think your message when you're ready,_' the Warlock continued. '_I'll send it out._'

Arthur nodded determinedly and, as they made their way hastily through the castle corridors, Merlin could sense the Prince's mind whirring at frantic speeds. It took several moments, but he finally seemed to settle on how to address what he saw as the most crucial points of what he wanted to say.

'_This is Prince Arthur,_' he eventually began- Merlin working automatically to project the message through the entire city. '_This may be hard for you to believe, but I am currently speaking to you through the aid of my friend, Merlin, otherwise known as the Warlock, Emrys. To anyone hearing this message, I want you to know that he is not dead, as you have been led to believe. He is very much alive. And, whatever else you may have heard, neither of us are willing to give up on our shared destiny to return magic to these lands._

'_Morgause refused to believe in that destiny,_' he continued after a momentary pause. '_She allowed hatred and vengeance to rule her judgement. He__r__ misguided passion allowed her and her sister, Morgana, to draw you all into a vile scheme wherein innocent children were used as pawns to enslave the minds of an entire nation._

'_But now Morgause is dead, and Morgana had fled, abandoning you all to whatever fate may have in store. With the loss of your leaders, I can understand that you may feel wary regarding what is to come. Especially considering the barrier currently preventing you from leaving the city. But, still, I ask you not to panic. The barrier is there for your protection. For the time being, I ask that you blend in with the other citizens. I will not hold you accountable for your participation in the sisters' plan but, if you harm any citizens, I cannot promise that __I __can offer you mercy. Once the day is up, I swear on my mother's grave that I will do everything in my power to ensure all those who wish to leave safe passage out of Camelot. I will not allow any one of you to fall to an unjust law._'

Again he paused, locking eyes with Merlin for the briefest of moments before rounding off his message.

'_To those who have heard me, please spread the word to those who haven't. I am sure that none of us wish to see any more unnecessary injuries or deaths. I shall contact you again before the day ends. Until then, stay safe._'

Once the message had ended, Merlin instantly put up a mental block around his and Arthur's link, effectively cutting off the tumultuous rush of questions he had instantly (and rather predictably, to be honest) been bombarded with from all over the city.

"You did well, you know," he assured Arthur, reverting back to physical speech for the time being. Continuing, he shot the Prince a mischievous grin. "A bit too well- people are going to doubt it's really you speaking if you don't let even a glimpse of your prattitude show."

A moment later, the Warlock was rubbing his arm ruefully where Arthur had landed a light-hearted punch. Not that it truly bothered him- the fond gratitude shining through their link was more than enough in compensation. Although it kind of irked him that the Prince was able to sense his own pride towards his friend in return.

Still, that fondness- and even the worry which accompanied it- provided more than a little comfort when they drew level with the council rooms. Beyond those doors, his fate- and possibly the fates of numerous others- would be decided once again.

But this time was different. He may have been willing to accept the final judgement, but this time he wasn't just going to stand by and let Arthur do all of the fighting on his behalf. This time, he had a plan of his own.

And he was determined to win.

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><p><strong>And so it begins. Dun dun dunnnnnn!<strong>

**I'm still open to ideas for the series title. I'm thinking I'll do the grand reveal either at the beginning or the end of chapter 37, and I really don't want it to be a let-down, so if anybody comes up with a better idea than mine, there's still time for it to change. And the offer still stands for those who want to know more about my OCs. As long as information about them wouldn't give anything away, I'm quite happy to blab as much as you like over pms. In fact, I've even started writing up a short(ish) piece on Kolby. Although it's taking a bit of work- I keep on getting upset... and that's an understatement if ever I wrote one...**

**(And, yes, I really did make it so that Merlin's complete and utter solitude was actually largely unnecessary. Poor fella- he's been through a lot, and this only makes it seem somehow pointless to him... I really am mean, aren't I...)**


	36. Chapter 36

**Okay. Here it is. The moment we've all been waiting for- the council meeting to top all council meetings. Or, at least, I hope so. This is, quite possibly, the most nervous I have ever been about posting a chapter, and I believe you'll see why when you get to the end. Also, this will be your last chance if any more of you want to make suggestions for the overall series title. Which I will think over even more and, if all goes to plan, announce in the next chapter, which I hope to find time to type up and post sometime during this week. I don't want to leave too long a gap this time. You'll see why.**

**Enough with the teasers, though. I should probably stop rambling and just let you read. Please, though, if at all possible, let me know what you think of this one. As I said before, I'm extremely nervous about where this story is going, so it really would mean the world to me if you would review. Many thanks in advance to those who do.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin (As you full well know. Must I keep having to repeat myself?)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 36<strong>

The council took a lot longer to gather than Uther would have liked. In the end, it was almost half an hour from when he had entered the room before the last council member- Lord Terrowin, as it turned out- made his way through the door. And, for most of that time, he had been forced to endure the presence of that sorcerer friend of his son's- someone who, after the mental turmoil of half a year previously, he had hoped to never have to see again- as the pair of them stood in the corner of the room. They had largely remained silent, barring the delighted yelp which had erupted from that Merlin boy as he rushed forward to embrace Gaius upon the physician's arrival. Following a brief conversation, Gaius had- rather reluctantly- parted ways with his ward and left the room once more, explaining to Uther that Sir Kennard had apparently been quite badly wounded and likely required medical attention. The King had been more than happy to grant the physician's request for leave- not only because of the situation, but also because he had no real desire to force his friend to endure yet another trial with regards to his ward's fate.

Uther had spent the time sitting at the head of the table- manipulating his aura so that none would dare to approach him until everyone had gathered- and studying Arthur and his pet sorcerer out of the corner of his eye. The dynamics between the two had shifted again, and Arthur had a fiery glint in his eye which suggested that he was yet again determined to spend the entire meeting arguing for the return of magic to the Kingdom, no matter how many issues such an action would cause.

The problem here, though, was not Arthur (since the start of the purge itself, the King had fought off any number of similar arguments, after all), but Merlin instead. Unlike six months previously, where his opponent had been a half-terrified boy, trapped and confused by a mist of his own, uncontrollable magic, Uther now found himself faced with a seemingly mature and wise young man who, if his current solemn expression was anything to go by, had come up with a few choice points of reasoning of his own. And Uther had an uncomfortable feeling that whatever the dark-haired young sorcerer had come up with would be something entirely new. The boy was an unknown. And that was dangerous.

Forcing himself from his thoughts, the King watched critically as Terrowin seated himself, pushing back wisps of heavily-greying hair from where it had fallen over his flabby face- no doubt during his rush to answer the council's summons.

"Now that we are all here," Uther began, deliberately injecting an element of steel into his tone, "we can finally begin. I am sure you are all curious regarding the current presence of a certain... _being_ in this room, as well as how exactly that links in to what we have experienced. And, as Prince Arthur was directly involved in the events of the past days, he shall be the one to give you a _brief_-" here he shot a warning glance in his son's direction-" update on what occurred. Arthur, if you would."

Arthur nodded his acquiescence, stepping forward so that he was a few paces away from Merlin, but still refusing to join the main council members around the table. It was a risky move, as it simultaneously alienated him from the seated parties and also lent him an air of authority over them.

"Thank you, father," Arthur began, before briefly meeting the eyes of everyone in the room and slipping into an easy yet firm stance. "I was first alerted to the fact that something dangerous was occurring amongst Camelot's citizens during morning training yesterday, when Sir Vidor presented some highly out-of-character behaviour. Upon further questioning, he then went on to sink into what can only be described as a trance state, and even showed symptoms of memory loss. It was around this time that Morgana arrived in the city, and everyone barring myself and Sir Kennard were brought under the Witches' control- myself through Merlin's protection, and Sir Kennard because he possesses a rare mental pattern which cannot be influenced by such forms of magic.

"After ascertaining Morgana's intentions, and quickly concluding that we held far from enough information to risk confronting her directly, I decided that we needed the assistance of an expert. As the circumstances provided us with a startling lack of options on this front, I persuaded Kennard to accompany me in freeing the Warlock, Merlin, from his captivity."

A murmuring of noise caused Arthur to pause, and Uther had to admit himself to be impressed when a single glance from his son silenced those who had spoken. It seemed that Arthur had picked up one or two talents from his old man after all.

"As it turned out," the Prince continued, "it was a good thing I did so, as Merlin discovered that the sisters had set up a magical web large enough that it encompassed the entire Kingdom, making use of dozens of magical vessels hidden throughout the city to do so. It was also these spells which were responsible for the recent unrest in the Kingdom- early signs which, I am afraid, none of us were able to pick up on. Within a matter of days, the enchantments' effects would have become completely irreversible.

"Although events transpired so that we were left unable to act further until today, we- together with a sorcerer who had been working against the sisters from within- managed to gather together all of the vessels.

"As Merlin was in the process of breaking the enchantments' effects, we were discovered by Morgana and Morgause. It was during this time that Sir Kennard received a grievous injury, which was later largely healed by our sorcerer ally. Fortunately, Merlin was able to break the spells and, after a brief battle, succeeded in killing Morgause. After which-" his voice rose over the startled exclamations- "Morgana fled together with another magic-user. Then, once Kennard had been treated, I organised the gatherings of the Knights and the Council, and went with Merlin to assure myself of the King's safety. The rest, I believe, you can imagine for yourselves."

Whilst Uther was processing this information, a voice spoke up from the other end of the table.

"And where is this 'sorcerer ally' you speak of, sire? Or has he, perhaps, already fled the city, too? Why is _he_ not here, when that so-called '_Warlock_' of yours is?"

"He is not here, Lord Aldric," Arthur snapped, his voice hard, "because I thought it appropriate to give him a short time of mourning. Soon after his treachery was discovered, his young daughter was murdered by Morgause in a most brutal fashion. After witnessing such an event, I am sure you would agree that he deserves a while to himself before being paraded in front of a group of men who likely want only to see him executed even after all he has sacrificed for us!"

Uther eyed his son critically. It was rare- nay, nigh on unheard of- for Arthur to become so worked up over someone he had allegedly first met less than twenty-four hours previously. Had this mystery sorcerer perhaps invoked some sort of magical control over him? Or was it actually possible that the situation had been dire enough to form a strong bond between them regardless of the brief amount of time for which they had known each other? Such a thing was not altogether unusual, after all. Among regular men, at least.

Regarding the details of Morgause's enchantments, Uther was under no illusion that Arthur had told him anything shy of the truth. He had had plenty of time to recall his own erratic actions and paranoid behaviour during the past months, and had no problem in believing that his mind had been manipulated, as the Prince had described. Arthur, though, had also been arguably more emotional. Could it actually be believed that he had behaved in such a manner- defended both Merlin and the use of magic in general so fervently- even whilst being protected from the spells' effects? Though such a notion was pushing things, it was not entirely impossible to conclude that his son had instead been under the Warlock's control all along. Given recent events, there was plenty of evidence to suggest that such long-distance manipulation was possible, after all- as long as the sorcerer was powerful enough. Even if the Merlin boy appeared, by all accounts, to be innocent, there could be no guarantee where magic was concerned.

"And is there anything else you wish to add?" He questioned dryly, raising a stern eyebrow and doing his utmost not to let his gaze flicker over to the Warlock standing behind his son.

"Only my increased belief that the ban on magic should be repealed- for the sake of those who wish only to be able to use their gifts without the fear of execution hanging over their heads."

"And do you honestly believe," the King demanded, his recent ordeals still fresh in his mind, "that any citizen of Camelot, or in any of our allied nations, will believe in the benefits of magic after they have seen such blatant evidence that it corrupted even the Lady Morgana herself?"

Quite by accident, his voice had risen in volume during his speech, and he found himself having to take a series of calming breaths while Arthur readied his answer, trying to push aside the vivid memories of his daughter's twisted delight as he writhed and screamed in agony. As Arthur began to speak, he forced himself to focus on that still, soothing presence still wrapped around his centre. Even if it only existed in his imagination, it was the only comfort he had right then.

"They will believe what they are shown to be true," Arthur stated calmly. "That Morgana was not corrupted by magic, but instead by her own hatred and fear. Like many others, she originally just wanted to be free from said fear. It was her head-strong nature which led her to embrace her anger towards Camelot's laws- laws which condemn her very existence. And, from what I saw today, I am very much afraid it has driven her mad."

And there it was- the crux of the matter. Morgana had long since been discontent with his reign- Uther had known it, even if he had been unwilling to acknowledge that fact. But was even that truly because of her own will? The nightmares- likely, he now saw, to have been early signs of her developing powers- had come before any such change of heart. And now, recalling the absurd fire in her chambers so many months ago, it was no real stretch to say that that- the beginning of her continuously more rebellious behaviour- was when her magic had fully manifested. Again, it was easy to see that magic could have been the source. The magic and her concurrent fear were too closely connected to be truly distinguished by any third party.

"There is no proof to support those claims," he started, beginning to rise. "And I will not see the Kingdom I have worked so hard to protect sink once more into the darkness which magic represents when all you have are unsubstantiated claims regarding the nature of such arts. If that is all, Arthur, then you are dismissed while the rest of us decide upon that sorcerer's fate."

The two royals stood, staring into the others' eyes. Arthur's fists had clenched themselves into loose fists. He was obviously unwilling to give up, but at the same time he had spent long enough around his father to know that the older man's mind was firmly made up when it came to such matters.

The silent confrontation went on for a full minute (the various other nobles shifting uncomfortably in place throughout), before an almost non-existent cough drew the attention of the entire room.

"Then let us prove it."

Nobody said a word as Merlin stepped forward, his expression almost completely indecipherable. The uncomfortable feeling gnawing away at Uther's stomach suddenly increased exponentially as he eyed the Warlock. Something big was about to happen- he was absolutely certain of it. Should he really allow this man- the biggest threat to the Kingdom's peace since the Dragons themselves- to remain in the room, poisoning his son's mind against him, for even a moment longer?

But, before he could even open his mouth to protest, Merlin continued- his calm, determined tone drawing everyone in, as though he were a story-teller and they his audience.

"I know that you all have reason enough to fear magic. Gaius once told me of the times before the purge, when magic-users ran riot, completely unchecked, abusing their gifts in the most horrendous fashions. Of times when the high priestesses used their positions to enslave and torture the minds of mortal men, and when even the healers lived only to serve their own purposes. Of a time when regular citizens either lived in a constant state of fear, or didn't live at all.

"I cannot deny that magic has a dark past, and that the purge, while extreme, may have truly been the only course of action you felt was open to you at the time.

"But times have changed," the Warlock declared, his eyes blazing with his passion. "And those with magic have more than paid the price for what happened back then.

"So I offer you a deal." Here he fixed his eyes firmly on Uther, the King's heart beating faster almost against his will at the fervour expressed in them. "As things stand, your only path of action is to have me imprisoned once again, only for Arthur to release me when the time comes for him to take his place as King. Believe me when I say that I have absolutely no desire whatsoever to spend even a single moment longer in that cell. Nevertheless, I will go- if that is what you decide.

"But, instead, I ask you for six months. In return for the six months I have spent as your captive, I now ask you for a trial of magic. Give us six months to prove to you that the forces of magic can be used for the benefit of this Kingdom- that they are not, as you so firmly believe, capable of causing only pain and disaster, but can also bring light and life to these lands."

Uther, somehow, finally managed to find his voice, and even succeeded in something close to his usual derisive tones. "And if you cannot prove these claims?"

The Warlock's expression became even more grave, and he seemed to be fighting not to turn his eyes away. But, after a moment, his resolve firmed once more.

"Then both myself and Prince Arthur will willingly consent both to the continued ban on magic... and to my execution."


	37. Chapter 37

**Yay! As promised (for once), here I am- mid-week, and with this chapter all typed up and ready to go! Huge thanks to all those who took the time to review the last chapter. I really do appreciate each and every one. If I were a regular, affection-liking being, I may offer you a hug. But I'm not, so I'm afraid you'll just have to settle for a virtual kitten/puppy each instead. Take your pick. And regular reviewers get two, plus a Unicorn ride.**

**Now, I don't typically answer anonymous/un-signed-in reviewers, because my ramblings tend to take up space. But, as a certain famous song (almost) says:'There comes a time, when we heed a certain call, and the veg. must answer a review.' (Bonus points if you sang that to yourself) This time, the honour falls to 'Marc,' but please feel free to skip the next paragraphs if you so desire- I'll caps lock it when it's over. With that said, here goes:**

**RAMBLE START!**

**I know that, in that episode, Gaius only briefly refers to the times before the purge. But I, for one, believe Merlin to be curious enough to have asked for more details at a later point. The reference I put in last chapter is of _that_ conversation, not one in any actual episode. Some of the things talked about in my stories will mention lives which continued outside of what we were shown, and it's part of the beauty of fanfiction that I am allowed to draw my own conclusions about what went on in those times.**

**That said, I believe there to be plenty of evidence to support my pre-purge Camelot theory. Outside of the magic circle, Uther is known as a good King (even Hunith said so), who brought peace to the land- not one who turned round one day and randomly went on a murderous rampage. The old religion is constantly shown to be far from rainbows and sparkles- the High Priestesses made use of evils such as the Dark Tower and the Fomorrah. The High Priests/Catha were renowned not for any good deeds, but for their skills when it comes to torture. Dark creatures such as the Dochraid support Morgana in her bid to bring back 'the old ways,' while Merlin's destiny was linked only to magic's return. I believe there is a clear difference. Even some of those we see as good were likely not always so. Gilli's father sounds admirable, but no doubt he- like his son- learnt his lesson the hard way. Yes there were exceptions, like Alice and Gaius, but I do honestly believe that pre-purge Camelot was what we would term as basically 'the dark ages.' And Merlin as had a whole six months to think about that- his understanding of Uther's views was in no way an easy one for him, believe me.**

**As for Uther himself, I don't want you to think that I condone all that he has done. He can be rash, he has a temper which often prevents him from thinking as clearly as he should, and he has made plenty of mistakes. But these are all flaws of being human- even Merlin caused numerous unneeded deaths in his time. And I think that, despite his many flaws, a lot of what we see in the show paints Uther as honestly doing the best he can to protect his Kingdom and his son. Ygraine's death may have been the final trigger of the purge, but I doubt a single one of his advisers or subjects would have truly stood by the decision if there hadn't been plenty of things which had happened before then. And to do what he did, as effectively as he did, he would have needed plenty of support. And, not only that, but he even had other Kingdoms follow his lead in their efforts for peace. Why would they have done that if they hadn't believed his efforts to be not only successful, but _justified_?**

**I've tried to keep this as short as possible (believe me, I could write entire essays on Uther, Merlin and all of the viewpoints regarding events such as the purge), and there are many more things I could discuss, but I think I've rambled enough, so I shall end with one final point. Many fans can understand (though maybe not forgive) what Morgana has done, because they have seen the journey which led her to that point. Likewise, I am not trying to get people to necessarily _forgive_ Uther, but to understand that he, too, has reasons for what he does. There's an entire lifetime of back-story there, which many people are quite willing to forget when they label him as nothing more than a tyrant. But the fact remains that, in his attempts to eliminate magic, he succeeded in bringing an era of relative peace to the land. It may not have been Arthur's Golden Age, but I think that result gives him reason to believe that he did the right thing. However terrible it was.**

**RAMBLE OVER!**

**Sorry that was so long. You see why I tend not to do the anonymous review reply thing? The replies would take up more space than the actual chapters!**

**So, without further ado, I bring to you... THE FINAL CHAPTER! Yes, that's right- you read me correctly. This here be the final real chapter, and I hope to type the epilogue fast enough to post it on my birthday this Sunday. What better way to celebrate, right?**

**(For anyone who is even remotely curious, the series title will be posted at the end of this chapter. I hope you like it.)**

**Disclaimer (at last): I don't own Merlin. Still no time machine, folks.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 37<strong>

The council (rather predictably) erupted into chaos. The air was quickly filled with any number of arguments. Some, such as Lord Walter, seemed to believe that Merlin only wanted six months so as to have the time to be able to pull off the same feat as Morgana and Morgause had. Others were yelling about how the whole idea was just a farce- a method to win their trust so that it would be that much easier for the Warlock to stab them in the back when the time came. A collection of the quieter men, such as Lord Terrowin, appeared to be honestly considering Merlin's suggestion, but their timid voices were easily outweighed by the more vocal members. And one or two, as in Sir Leon's case, seemed to be wholly in favour of the idea. Even Arthur's voice had joined the general ruckus (though at a somewhat more usual level), as he demanded of the Warlock exactly how he thought he was going to get away with bargaining his own life so willingly, and insisted that the younger man must truly have gone insane if he thought the Prince was ever going to agree to such a ridiculous plan.

Amongst it all, though, only two men remained unmoving. Merlin kept his eyes fixed on the King, his expression taking on an almost challenging quality, as though he were daring the older man to be brave enough to accept his offer.

Uther merely stared back, completely dumbstruck. Where was the boy's tactical advantage in making such a deal? Surely he had realised by now that the likelihood of the ban being repealed was less than one in a million. So how could he possibly be willing to lay down his life for such ridiculous odds? Was it truly all a mere trick- was he planning to escape death once again, in the same manner he had last time? But no- that had been because he had been unable to control his magic- something which no longer seemed to be an issue, considering the absence of that golden mist. None of this made any sense! And, as was often the case when he found himself confronted with something he couldn't explain, Uther's feeling of bemusement was quickly being replaced by anger. How dare this boy stand in _his_ court and speak so blatantly against what had been the work of almost his entire adult life? How dare this mere _sorcerer_ try to undermine all of the sacrifices he had made to reach this point? His friends. His family. Even his very _heart_ had had to be pushed to the background in order to achieve all that he had, and now this fool of an ex-manservant was challenging all of that. And, to top it all off, he couldn't even think properly because of all this _blasted __**NOISE**_!

"Enough!" He finally yelled. "I want everyone barring the sorcerer and his guards out of here _NOW!_"

Obviously recognising the danger signs- it was well known, even to the King himself, that he could be somewhat volatile during the times at which he allowed his temper to take over- the council members beat a hasty retreat towards the safety of the adjoining rooms, no doubt ready to discuss things amongst themselves there until he chose to summon them back.

"That includes you, Arthur. Out."

"Father-!"

"Now!"

The Prince looked more than ready to fight back for all he was worth, and was just opening his mouth to do so when, almost as if by some invisible signal, his head jerked around to focus on Merlin. The younger man gave him a reassuring nod.

"Go, Arthur," he muttered, quietly enough that the King had to strain to hear. "I'll be fine here. Besides-" he offered the other man a significant look- "if anything happens, you'll be the first to know. Just trust me on this."

Arthur dithered for only a moment longer before, with a brief nod of his own, he turned and strode out of the room.

Biting down the pang of jealousy which had reared its head upon seeing yet more proof that his son's bond with this _peasant boy_ was stronger than _theirs_ had been in years, Uther glared at the young man he had now been left almost entirely alone with.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Merlin merely looked steadily back at him. "It is as you heard, sire. Six months. If the magic-users of Camelot can manage to persuade you in that time that they are no threat, then the ban on magic will be revoked. If not, then the ban remains and I, as Emrys, will bear the weight of the punishment. Myself and Arthur are said to be destined to return magic to the land. If I die, that will not happen. And you will emerge as the victor, as has been your aim all these years."

"And what of Arthur?" Uther demanded. "What of his role in this so-called destiny? You seem so certain that he would be willing to wait and release you again in the future. You cannot pretend, then, that you do not believe he would attempt to bring back magic whether or not you die. Or is all of this merely some plot to set yourself up as a martyr in his eyes?!"

And that, Uther knew, was one of his main fears in all this. He would not live forever- Arthur _would_ some day become King. And yet, despite his best efforts, the Prince had decided to remain oblivious to the true horrors magic could wreak. If Arthur, in his naivety, freed magic, and chaos once more engulfed the Kingdom the both of them loved so dearly, then Uther doubted the failure would ever allow either of them to rest in peace.

Merlin remained silent for long enough that it almost seemed that he was going to give up. But, after a while, he seemed to find his answer.

"Then how about this?" The young man questioned. "Arthur could swear upon a blood oath that, should this trial fail, he will never again do anything which would knowingly lead to the support of the practice of magic. That way the ban would remain even throughout the entirety of Arthur's reign. You would have nothing to worry about."

For the second time in the span of just a few minutes, Uther found himself at a complete loss for words. This entire situation was utterly ridiculous! Was this man mad, that he would so willingly risk the entire future of his own kind? Did he not fear the King or his inevitable judgement at all?

But no... that couldn't be it. He had seen how deeply the man feared him earlier that self-same day, before the sorcerer had managed to push it back. And traces of it were visible even now- well hidden, yes, but easy enough to spot for those who knew what to look for. This so-called Warlock, powerful as he may be, truly seemed to regard Uther with some element of terror. But if that was the case- if, as it seemed, he knew full well that such a deal would almost inevitably result in his death, then his entire suggestion made even less sense!

"Why are you doing this?" He eventually asked, surprising even himself with the curious edge to his voice. But he could never have expected such a magnitude of pain and... weariness as shone through the younger man's eyes in response. The Warlock's posture didn't change, but he suddenly seemed to age several decades regardless.

"Because I'm tired," came the eventual response. "I have been using magic since I was a mere infant in my mother's arms. And, all my life, I have had to hide the largest part of who I am from almost everyone I hold dear. And for what? Would you force every man who can see to spend the rest of their lives blindfolded? Or every man with a keen sense of smell to spend eternity with their noses plugged? I never understood why I had to force myself not to do something which comes as naturally to me as breathing. Especially during the times when I wanted nothing more than to help those in my village who were suffering.

"Do you have any idea how much it hurt?" He pleaded, a sheen of tears covering his eyes as he continued to stare almost _through _the King. "When the woman I loved was killed, I could not even let anyone see that I was suffering. When I finally discovered who my father was, and he died in my arms after only two days of knowing him, for weeks I could not share my pain even with my closest friend. I have borne the weight of this entire Kingdom on my shoulders numerous times over the past years, and have had to sit in the background all along, bearing the scars alone. I came so close to giving up, and I have suffered so much, but I have always lived whilst trying to believe and trust in a future where things could be better, and where I wouldn't have to live the rest of my life as a lie.

"And that's just me! Hundreds- maybe even thousands- of fellow magic-users have had to live through similar hardships- many, like me, too afraid to even speak to others like themselves in fear that their gifts would be discovered and they would have to face the executioner's block- or even the pyre!

"If all these attacks on Camelot have taught me one thing, it is that people are tired of living with the shadow of death hanging over themselves and their families. If you corner a boar, then it will charge. If you persecute a people for long enough- especially when many of them cannot help their gifts- then they are bound to retaliate in any way they can.

"This trial isn't just for your sake," Merlin insisted, wiping away the tears which his words had caused to fall, almost unnoticed by either Warlock or King until that moment. "It's for us. If magic truly corrupts, as you insist it does, then six months of free use is long enough for all of your citizens- both magical and non-magical alike- to come to the same conclusion. And if that turns out to be the case, then I will gladly give up my life rather than succumb to a future which holds nothing but darkness.

"But if the reverse happens-" he beamed, "-if we can show you the good in magic, then we will finally be able to live in the light like so many of us have dreamed for so long! We will finally- through our own efforts- be able to feel pride in the way we were born! No-one else will have to die! _That's_ why I'm doing this."

Silence fell, barring the Warlock's heavy, emotional breathing. Uther's mind seemed to have stopped functioning almost entirely, unable to focus on anything else other than the raw emotion which had seeped out of every word of Merlin's speech. He had never seen anyone- not even Merlin himself- discuss the issue of magic so passionately before, outside of his own anti-magic speeches at the very beginning of the purge, when his own hurt was still fresh. If he were honest, it left him feeling quite uncertain as to how he should react. Such depth of emotion was not something which could possibly be faked- was it? Or was it actually possible that the whole thing was just an extremely well-executed act? Because, as long as there was even a glimmer of doubt, there was no way he could even _begin_ to consider the Warlock's proposal.

"And how," he managed to force out, "am I to believe that what you say if true- that magic can do anything other than corrupt? As you so helpfully pointed out earlier, myself and most others within Camelot have only ever seen the evils of magic. Where is your proof that such forces can ever be anything other than self-serving and selfish?"

"This is my proof."

Before Uther could even think of reacting, Merlin had stepped forward and placed a hand briefly of the King's cheek. Their eyes remained lock on each-others' the entire time, and Uther saw not even a single glimmer of the golden hues which he knew flared through the younger man's irises whenever magic was used. Regardless of that fact, however, for that single moment of contact it was as though the comforting presence within him grew a life of its own. It flared up, engulfing him in a peace and serenity the likes of which he had not experienced since the last time he had felt Ygraine's warm, loving embrace. Overwhelmed by the sudden memories of her dazzling smile, he looked down, and was barely even surprised to find that his hand was trembling.

"Sorry," Merlin mumbled, backing away a few steps and sounding somewhat awed himself. "I needed direct skin contact to be certain that the spell would react. I didn't realise it would be that... intense."

Absent-mindedly wiping at the solitary tear he hadn't even realised he had shed, Uther found himself to be staring at Merlin once more.

"That was you then?" He questioned, still too overcome with emotion for his voice to come out as anything other than a half whisper. "That presence? It was you all along?"

His voice faded away, the answer already obvious enough, but Merlin nodded regardless, his hand reaching into his pocket and tightening around whatever was in there.

"Arthur doesn't know, though," the Warlock stated. "And I won't tell him, no matter what choice you make. I'll even remove it if you want, although I can't say I would recommend doing so.

"And there's more as well," he continued after a slight pause, pulling a bundle of cloth from his pocket and unwrapping it to reveal two small, perfectly formed spheres- the sight of which set the King's heart pounding in something akin to instinctive terror. "When I removed the physical effects of Morgana's spells from you, this is what they formed. If anyone touches either of these spheres directly, the full force of what you went through will immediately be inflicted upon them. If you agree to the trial," Merlin breathed, "then I plan on entrusting these to you. That way, if I ever did prove you right by going against Camelot, then you will have a weapon to use against me. And I'm sure there is no need for me to tell you exactly how effective it would be. Especially in such a concentrated form."

The younger man's eyes met his once more, a strange intensity blazing in their depths. "I'm not trying to tell you that magic is not dangerous- that would be ridiculous, considering the amount of anguish I have seen come about through its use. I only want for people to see that the fault lies not with the magic itself, but with the users' own fallibility. Yes, there are those whom even I might term as evil sorcerers. But I have also seen similar- or even worse- atrocities committed by those without magic. I want you to consider why it is thought of as just for a man who heals an entire village to be treated identically- or sometimes even worse- than a murderer, simply because of the tool he uses. Or for a mother to be sentenced to death when her only crime is in seeking out a cure for her ailing child. I am not trying to excuse the acts of those before the purge, or of those who turn to use of the darker magics, but I can promise you that both your son and I are one hundred percent dedicated to seeing that such things never happen again. Either that," he breathed, reaching his conclusion, "or die trying.

"What do you say?"

In what was fast becoming a familiar reaction where Merlin was concerned, Uther was once again blown away. The boy was literally placing the fate of his entire kind in the King's hand, and was even willing to offer up the perfect way to bring the most powerful sorcerer of them all to his knees.

And, on top of that, there was the protective spell. He himself was more than aware of just how pure that protection was, and of how much his mind was likely to suffer were it to be taken away. It was why, against all of his usual instincts, he had not leapt at the chance to have it removed, but had instead given in to the knot of fear which arose every time he even considered facing such obliterating pain without it's support. And if he accepted the protection as pure, then that meant that, unless it was actually possible to remove all traces of one's true intent and nature from a spell, he had to consider the possibility that Merlin's magic truly was as natural as he and Arthur had been claiming.

Then, finally, there was the matter of Arthur's oath. If he agreed to the deal, and Arthur swore to such an agreement, he would be securing the potential means for the war against magic to be firmly continued for generations after his death. If the Prince bore witness himself to the pitfalls of magic, then he would fight against it willingly once more, and things could finally return to the way they had been before this entire mess had exploded in their faces. And, in truth, what was six months in comparison with the many years which would follow?

But, even then, there was one more factor niggling at his mind. Six months previously, he had pondered over whether Merlin could in fact be an utter anomaly where magic was concerned. He had even trusted automatically that the Warlock wouldn't take advantage of this time alone to enchant his mind. The question was, was he willing to take a chance that that might not be entirely true? That there may, indeed, be other sorcerers out there with a similar mindset? Was he willing to once again risk it all for the future of his Kingdom?

Making his decision, Uther reached out a steady hand for the spheres, fixing the dark-haired sorcerer with a threatening glare.

"Six months."

The ecstatic grin he received in return was almost blinding.

"Six months."

* * *

><p><strong>And now, the moment we've all (or at least I've) being waiting for: the title of this series is... *drumroll*<strong>

**'Redemption'!**


	38. Epilogue

**I made it! I actually managed to get this typed up ready to post today! It was tough, but I managed it! YATTA! Birthday epilogue, ready and raring to go!**

**That said, it does feel extraordinarily strange to be posting this. I started this story two years, eight months ago (to the very day). I have a feeling it wouldn't have taken quite so long had I actually started with it more fully planned in my head. But then things may have turned out a lot differently, and we almost certainly wouldn't have seen some of the key characters who turned up, so I can't really bring myself to feel quite as apologetic about the huge gaps as I probably should... Shame on me.**

**As I've told some of you in my replies to your reviews, this is far from the end. I have a sequel planned, set approximately three months into the trial, but I can't be completely certain as to when it will get posted. Still, if you're interested, please keep as eye out- the title will be 'Despair.'**

**This series really has been an incredible journey for me, and I doubt I'll be done with it any time soon. As I've said before, I want to write more about some of my OCs. I also want to write a short piece which should answer a mini un-answered point from much earlier in this fic, wherein Arthur persuades an unwilling Merlin to let him meet Kilgarrah. Someone suggested once that I write a bit about Merlin's time in his cell. I don't know if that will ever be written, but I must say the idea intrigues me-if ever the right inspiration comes, then who knows? Then, of course, there is the sequel. And all sorts of fics outside of this series- not just the ones currently on hiatus, but several others- magic reveals, characters' pasts (Hunith? Uther?). I don't even know if I'll have enough time in my entire life to get down everything I want to , but I really want to thank you all for sticking with me in this one branch my (rather confusing) mind took me on. THANK YOU SO MUCH!**

**Now, forgive me, but here comes another reply to Marc (I would put it at the end, out of the way, but I don't want to ruin the atmosphere at the bottom of the page, so I'm getting everything out of the way up here). Therefore, RAMBLE START:**

**Marc, I'm afraid I have to admit to being a little confused by your comment about this being AU. Surely that is the entire point of fanfiction? By deviating from canon, and putting the characters through an entirely different series of events, we get to imagine how they would change had circumstances been different to those on the show. And this series of mine has such extreme events that it was inevitable that the characters themselves would end up thinking differently to how they might in the show- as I said before, Merlin has had six whole months of solitude to ponder all sorts of things, which is why he is able to better understand what Uther's thought processes may have been. **

**You mentioned the 'apologising magic' incident. Forgive me if you think differently, but I see Merlin's magic as different to that of other magic-users. I see it as an extension of himself, which is why it reacts so well to his instinctive wants and needs, and why it tends to falter when he's overly distraught. As such, I think it would be fair to say that the magic carries a portion of his will. Now let me pose this question to you- if you were able to feel someone being tortured as painfully as Uther was- even if it was someone you held no real regard for- would you not feel apologetic that you could not do as much as possible to save them from said torture? I know I, for one, would absolutely hate to leave someone to face something like that. And that, my friend, is why I made that particular decision with regards to that scene.**

**I'm so glad you mentioned that scene with Nimueh! I absolutely LOVE that scene, along with the one where Uther tells Arthur that Nimueh is evil. When those two look at each other (before the anger kicks in), there's such a huge sadness and regret in their eyes. To me, how Uther sees Nimueh is somewhat similar to how Merlin views Morgana in the later series- an old friend, whose downfall he failed to prevent. He, through his misunderstanding of what happened, views her as the friend he let be corrupted, and she views him as the friend who turned on her. That's what I see in those scenes, anyway. You may disagree, but the parallels between Uther's and Merlin's situations are incredible. Believe me- you will never find me denying any aspect of their past friendship. But I do think it ended a lot more tragically, and with much more complexity, than you seem to believe.**

**Finally, I said before- I do fully acknowledge that what happened with Ygraine was the final trigger- was, in fact, a huge contributing factor to Uther's decision to start the purge. But I also said before that there is plenty of evidence to suggest that it was _far_ from the only factor. I will not completely disclaim your opinion on what happened- as none of us can know for sure- as long as you have logical reasons, preferably backed up by evidence from the show itself, as to why you think that way. I truly do love hearing other peoples' opinions on such matters. But I'm afraid that I can cannot believe that, as you so eloquently put it "that's how the situation happened." To a degree, I believe that an element of what you said was involved, such as the eventual revenge factor (let's face it- that one's obvious). But do you really think that, no matter how close they may have been in the past, Gaius would have not only stuck around, but also retained so large a respect for Uther had his friend just up and started slaughtering people just because he was upset over his wife? Or that the purge would have been as effective as it was, as fast as it was (because, if you think about the timelines, the Dragons appear to have been wiped out- barring Kilgarrah- a mere year after Arthur's birth) if he hadn't had honest support from a large portion of non-magic-users? I can't help but believe that the circumstances back then were incredibly complex. If you have an actual account, please feel free to contact me on it- as long as you have valid, logical arguments behind your opinions, I really would love to hear them all.**

**RAMBLE OVER**

**Ack- yet another extraordinarily long Author's Note. Once again, though, thank you all so much for reading/reviewing/anything-ing this story. I hope to see you again sometime soon. ^_^ (ps. Please let me know if there's anything I haven't answered which you wanted to know)**

**And now, one last disclaimer: I don't own Merlin (hands up if you think I should!)**

* * *

><p><strong>Epilogue<strong>

After hours of lying in bed, his mind whirring with hundreds of strategic details, Arthur eventually decided that he had had more than enough of staring up at the ceiling of his bed's canopy. Tossing off his covers, the Prince shrugged on some warmer clothes, tugged a pair of boots on over his bare feet, and trudged through the near-silent halls of the castle, nodding distractedly towards the guards he passed on his way towards the gardens.

Even without the constant thrum of Merlin's emotions guiding his steps, Arthur would have known where to find his friend. The Warlock- much to the frustration of his constant stream of guards- had spent most of his time over the course of the past three days outside, unwilling to trade a wide-open view of the sky for more of the constricting walls which had been his prison for the past six months. Nobody really spoke about it- apart from Gaius' exclamation that spending so much his time in the fresh air to visit his ward was probably doing his old bones a world of good- but it was becoming clear as time went on that Merlin had been more deeply affected by his confinement than any of them had guessed at first. Arthur was the most keenly aware of said changes, sensing as he now could the heavy melancholy which settled over the Warlock's mind when none of his friends were around to see. He never mentioned it, but instead took comfort in the fact that their linked minds meant that he was never more than a thought away should the younger man ever want to talk.

Finally reaching the gardens' entrance, the Prince slipped through the gateway and made his way along the paths, only pausing to briefly acknowledge the Warlock's current contingent of guards.

"How's he doing?"

"Same as ever, sire," a dark-skinned fellow spoke up. "Seems to be thinking fairly hard about something."

Well that was hardly surprising. After days of out-arguing noblemen and sending emissaries to their various allied Kingdoms to explain the situation, Uther had finally agreed that Merlin would join the proceedings from the following day onwards, as representative of the magic-users from all five Kingdoms. Such a prospect was bound to weigh on anyone's nerves.

Without another word, Arthur walked over and sat himself down on the bench upon which Merlin sat, and joined the Warlock in watching the hundreds of minuscule conjured specks of light dancing slowly to the silent music of Merlin's mind.

"Couldn't sleep then?" The younger man finally observed.

"Did you really think I _would_ be able to?"

"Not really, but I originally expected that you'd be too stubborn to come see me for another hour at least."

"I guess some of your impatience has finally rubbed off on me."

Merlin offered up a semi-cheeky smile at that. "About time, too. Maybe this means you'll finally start reacting fast enough that you _won't_ get knocked out left, right and centre for a change."

"I'll have you know, my reactions are some of the fastest in the land!" Arthur retorted mock-indignantly.

"In that case, I sincerely fear for the land."

"Oi! If I really was knocked out as often as you claim, then it was only because I was too busy protecting _you_ from doing something ridiculous!"

"Says the man who got saved each time by my 'ridiculousness.'"

"Yes, well," Arthur sputtered, "at least _I_ can look heroic even while unconscious. With ears like yours, it's not surprising in the least that villains always find it so hard to believe the same of you. You look like a bean-sprout with dinner plates glued to the tip."

"Resorting to insults about my looks now, are we?" Merlin questioned, one eyebrow raised in bemused jest. "In that case, can we please, just this once, talk about your waistline?"

"I am NOT fat!"

"No, indeed you're not. Quite the reverse- you appear to have lost a rather annoying amount of weight over the past months. Tell me- how am I supposed to persuade everyone that I've had a positive effect on you if you insist upon walking around looking like a half-starved puppy?"

Arthur was about to retort that Merlin wasn't exactly the perfect picture of healthy eating himself, when a certain word from the Warlock's speech caused his brow to arch quizzically. "A puppy?"

"Have you _seen_ your smile? There's no other animal capable of looking quite so goofy."

"Wait- you're calling _me_ goofy-looking? _You_ are calling _me_ goofy-looking?"

"Sure I am," Merlin grinned. "Takes one to know one, after all."

"Does that make you a supposed prat then?"

"Hardly. But it does make _you_ an idiot."

The Prince let out a silent snort of amusement- mirrored almost immediately by Merlin- and the two fell into a companionable silence once more. Eventually, though, the conversation would have to take a darker turn, and Arthur somehow knew that he would have to be the one to lead them into it. Still, it was almost five full minutes before he finally spoke again, his tone now far more subdued.

"My father finally met Michael today."

"So I've heard. I've also heard that things didn't exactly go swimmingly."

Now there was an understatement, if ever Arthur had heard one. Uther had acted like he had seen a ghost, and had only started co-operating at all when the sorcerer had offered up information about the recent unrest at the borders- apparently, the skirmishes were the result of spells Morgause had created in the sisters' plans to spread out their dominion from Camelot. Spells which would eventually have later been reinforced with the sending of further human vessels- which Michael, with his skills at detecting magic, was supposed to have been searching for. Fortunately, the spells had only had jewellery (sent as anonymous gifts, and bewitched so that the Kings would choose to wear them continuously) as their vessels, and so the enchantments would have broken with Morgause's death.

"He didn't threaten him with execution right then and there." Always a positive sign. "Which is definitely an improvement in my opinion. Apparently, Michael was there when he was brought out of the enchantment. Not altogether surprising, I know, considering his role, but it didn't exactly help things along. There'll be an official trial once everything else has been settled, and the final terms are decided upon. With the rules in place, hopefully it will be a fair one."

Merlin's eyes darkened. "I only hope Michael doesn't do something to jeopardise his chances on purpose."

Arthur drew back in surprise. "What makes you think he would?"

"That spell I stopped him from casting after Aveline... you know." The younger man's expression turned even more grave. "He was trying to link himself and Morgause together- to kill himself in order to take her down. I couldn't let him."

Merlin's voice faded away, and he turned a fiercely intense gaze on the Prince. "Whatever happens, Arthur, we can't let him give up like that. I can't pretend to know exactly how he's feeling- I've lost several people after all, but never a child- but I don't want to see him throw away the life which Aveline would have wanted for him."

Arthur paused a moment before offering his reply.

"And I'm sure he won't."

"How can you know?"

"I don't. Not for certain. But he's had time to calm down now. And I saw his face at Aveline's funeral. I don't think he'll disrespect her like that. Not any more."

The shift in Merlin's emotions suggested that he was allowing this new information to sink in, and he smiled softly.

"I'm glad."

"What about Kennard?" Arthur asked a short while later. "Mordon told me that that Cedany girl has taken over his care. And, if today's training session was anything to go by, he's not exactly happy about it." The older knight, in a rare fit of temper, had practically decimated one of the training dummies, and a second had fared little better.

Merlin let out a huff of laughter. "From what Gaius tells me, neither is Cedany. Even after it was she who insisted upon it. From what I gather, she seems to view it as recompense for her involvement in his injury- however much she hates Knights. She's apparently a fantastic healer, though. Gaius says that, with her help, Kennard may eventually be able to fight again after all. Although it's still only about a sixty: forty chance.

"Still," Arthur pointed out, "it's a hell of a lot better than him being dead."

"I think we're all in agreement on that one."

"Indeed."

The conversation lulled once again as the Warlock's mind turned to darker things, and Arthur sat in patient silence, quite willing to wait until the younger man felt ready to discuss what was truly plaguing his mind. After all their time apart, even just knowing that Merlin was in his proper place by his side was enough that conversation often wasn't even necessary any more. In the meantime, he contented himself with once more watching the flow of the dancing lights- which, he now realised, also appeared to serve the purpose of heating the air around them, keeping the pair of them (as well as the guards in the distance) warm despite the chill the season otherwise had to offer.

The clouds had long moved beyond the castle's peak before Merlin spoke again, his voice so quiet that Arthur almost missed it against the dim noise of the guards' own chatter.

"Am I doing the right thing, Arthur?"

Arthur didn't answer, but instead merely turned his gaze on his friend, waiting for the continuation he was sure would follow. Sure enough, the younger man didn't disappoint.

"I've been wondering all this time. I mean, sure, it seemed like a good idea at the time, and I know it's got a lot of people starting to think about magic for themselves, but it's such a huge risk. So much could go wrong, and _then_ where would we be? Not to mention the fact that the odds are hardly in our favour in the first place. What if all I've done is to give magic-users a tiny spark of hope, only to condemn them to another who-knows-how-many years of persecution?"

"Merlin, whatever happens, I can promise you that that will never be the case."

"But-" the Warlock turned a hopeless expression his way- "the blood oath. You can't-"

"I may have to swear upon that stupid oath," Arthur interrupted, straightening up but keeping his eyes fixed on Merlin's, "but that doesn't mean that my opinion regarding magic will ever change. The oath only has me agreeing not to support magic." He allowed a conspiratorial grin to spread across his features. "But that doesn't prevent me from acting as a neutral party- turning a blind eye when the need arises.

Merlin's lips twitched upwards in a lopsided grin of their own. "Arthur-"

"That doesn't mean I forgive you, though," the Prince continued, this time with a hint of seriousness clouding his features. "It would've been so much easier to create the perfect Kingdom if I didn't have this holding me back." He paused. "I suppose we'll just have to work extra hard to make sure that it doesn't come to that."

There were a few moments of silence before Merlin smiled again.

"Well would you look at that- the prat may have a bit of wisdom in him after all." And if Arthur had ever- even for an instant- doubted Merlin's loyalty towards him in the past, such a thing was impossible now. The sheer amount of raw _pride_ which suddenly washed over into his mind was completely staggering. He was fairly certain he saw Merlin snort slightly in response to his initial reaction of humbling awe. Huffing at the idea, Arthur looked away for a moment.

"What else did you expect- I _am_ the Once and Future King after all."

He hadn't expected the melancholy to return at his words. Turning back in surprise, he found Merlin staring almost bitterly at his own clasped hands.

"And I'm _supposed_ to be Emrys. Destined to protect you. What if I've just jeopardised that? If this fails, and I'm not around any more, who's going to be there to help you then?"

Unexpectedly, Arthur felt a stab of anger run through him at the Warlock's words.

"Merlin, do you believe that magic is evil?"

Merlin snapped upright. "Of course I don't!"

"Then you need to stop thinking so pessimistically. You've done what everyone else thought impossible, Merlin. You've persuaded my father to give magic a chance. That's something that even _I_ would never have been able to do. But if you try to back out now- if you show doubt in front of him, even for an instant, that this trial will not succeed, then he will take it as a sign that even _you_ don't believe your own words. And then nobody would be able to persuade him that magic could ever mean anything other than dark times and chaos for this Kingdom. You have to believe that we are going to succeed. Or else we never will."

The younger man merely stared at him in shock, before shaking his head in bemused disbelief.

"What?"

"Nothing," Merlin half-laughed. "It just feels a bit strange is all- you being the one giving _me_ wise advice." He smiled. "But thank you. You're right."

The two grinned at each other, but Arthur could tell that there was still something else weighing on the other man's mind. Shooting the Warlock a suspicious sidelong glance, he sighed when Merlin refused to meet his eyes.

"What is it?"

"What's what?"

"You know what I mean."

After several moments of his best I'm-the-prince-and-you-best-do-what-I-say glare, Merlin finally relented, that annoying self-doubting guilt once more clouding his eyes and mind.

"It's just- I've been wondering... why did I even come up with this in the first place, Arthur?"

"What do you mean?"

The younger man's hands clasped together once again. "It was all such a rush- coming up with the idea, and then arguing my point. I didn't even consult _you_, and we're supposed to be a team."

"Well, that's true, I suppose," Arthur replied once the ensuing silence grew too much. "But the situation wasn't exactly the best in which to sit down and have a detailed strategy meeting. And it worked, anyway. Besides, I know you always have the best wishes for Camelot at heart."

"But that's just it, Arthur. What if I don't?"

Now _that_ got him to pause. "What?"

Merlin was practically wringing his hands together by this point. "What if I didn't do it for Camelot, Arthur? If none of what I said was really for Albion after all? I mean, I thought it was- of course I did- but what if that wasn't the case?"

"Merlin, you're not making any sense."

Merlin finally lifted his gaze from where it had fallen, his eyes an equal measure of guilt and pleading.

"What if it was all for me? If all I really wanted was for magic to return, I could have just waited. Gone back to that- that room, and waited until you became King. If- and I'm not saying it will- but if this fails, and magic can never truly be freed, or if you die because I was stupid enough to bargain my life, then it'll all be my fault. And what if the only reason I even did it in the first place wast just because I was too much of a coward to face being alone?!"

Silence. The guards' chatter had ceased long ago. The lights had come to a grinding halt. And even the leaves and insects themselves had halted in their movements. It seemed as though, for a few brief moments, the entire world stood still.

"So what?"

If it weren't for the seriousness of the current topic, Arthur was certain he would have laughed himself silly at Merlin's gob-smacked expression. The Warlock was practically gaping like a stranded fish, mouth opening and closing in quick succession as he struggled to find the words to respond. Eventually, though, the Prince had to take pity on him. Before the fool passed out from thinking too hard or something.

"Merlin, you are, quite possibly, the _least_ selfish person I have ever had the misfortune to meet. But if you can't allow yourself to be selfish in this, your own destiny, then how could you ever hope to proceed with it?"

Merlin merely looked confused now. "But Gaius always said-"

"-To be patient. I know. And it ended up being two years before I found out about you- and even that was an accident! Sometimes, in order for things to move on, you need to be willing to take risks. To give in to that little spark of selfishness which makes you human. If you suppress it for too long, it'll just eat away at you.

"Besides," he added, his tone brightening, even as he forced himself to ignore the slight sheen in Merlin's eyes, "you're just being pessimistic again. Think of it this way- if this succeeds- if magic is returned to the Kingdom even while my father is still King- then it will all be your fault. All because you were a brave enough man to admit that you didn't want to be alone."

A few seconds passed before Merlin smiled, a hint of his usual mischievousness in the set of his mouth.

"You really should stop acting so wise, you know. Otherwise nothing will _ever_ convince your father that I haven't enchanted you after all.

"Although..." the Warlock continued a few moments later. "You did get one thing wrong."

"Oh?" Arthur hummed. "What was that then?"

"It wouldn't be _my_ fault," Merlin grinned. "It'd be ours."

And, as they sat there- the Once and Future King and Emrys- sharing one of their rare moments where they allowed themselves to truly acknowledge the depth of the bond they had- not through destiny, but through pure, simple friendship- Arthur knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the two of them would somehow make this work. Together.

"Right," he agreed, as they settled down to watch the now multi-coloured lights in their ecstatic dance. "Ours."


End file.
